The Best In Life
by Jill O'Brien
Summary: A For Better or For Worse fic. Every woman wants Prince Charming. Liz Patterson has confused her runty little frog with Olivia's Prince Charming and everyone but Liz and her family can see it. A scathing satire of what's become a Canadian farce.
1. Chapter 1

I leaned back against the wall by the table of munchies and stared out the bank of windows across from me, idly playing with my ring. I intensely disliked the large, ostentatious stone on it, but I'd asked for something that screamed 'You could feed a small country for what I cost' so I'd just have to deal with it, at least until after the bridal shower. My mom's Aunt Harriet was throwing it for all the ladies on that side of the family tree, so I'd had to fly up to Rochester for the weekend.

My actual engagement ring, which had a small marquis cut sapphire with a smaller diamond on each side, was on a chain around my neck and all it said was 'I'm not following the crowd'. I kept it there most of the time because I had a bad habit of taking off rings and forgetting where I left them. I hoped the ring I was wearing wouldn't become another casualty. I had to get it back to my friend, Kay, when I returned to the City and she'd have my head if I didn't. It was just a piece of costume jewelry, but Kay, who worked wardrobe, needed it back for the show she was doing wardrobe for, which opened the next week.

The reason I'd asked Kay to find me something big and gaudy went back to the previous summer, when the Pattersons descended upon my parents' house for their yearly Visit from Hell.

There were two new faces in the van that year, Anthony Caine, Liz's fiancée, his daughter. Elly had spewed forth much glurge about Liz's engagement in her letters and gone into great detail about the paragon of manly virtue that was Anthony Caine and gushed about how fabulous his daughter, Francie, was, so we'd had time to prepare ourselves for the two new member of their Canadian freak show—or we thought we had.

Anthony struck me as a bit of a geek and totally pussywhipped almost from the first moment I saw him. The light blue polo shirt, obviously ironed, and pocket protector, the faded khaki slacks, the scuffed black shoes and white socks, the glasses that looked like a holdover from the 1970s…I knew the look well. A friend of mine had married an engineering geek about six years prior. As Bill Gates had proven, the geek shall inherit the earth so I had great respect for geeks and my friend's husband was a nice guy. A bit boring for my tastes, but a great guy. That Anthony was pussywhipped was obvious from the way he trailed a step or two behind Liz, let her answer questions for him, and always answered Liz with "Of course, dear" and "Yes, dear". As my friend, Jen, would say, Anthony would have to ask Liz for his balls back every time they had sex.

Francie was…weird. Freakishly precocious; a seven-year-old in a three-year-old's body.

"When does her head start spinning?" my cousin, Sarah, asked me when Francie wandered off after asking us where we worked and if we enjoyed what we did. The whole time, Francie had stared at us with an unblinking gaze that made me feel like she was reading my every thought. Sarah just thought she was possessed, which had prompted her question about Francie's head spinning.

"I think I'll go get my Bible, just in case." I heard Francie tell Johanna and Hope, a cousin's girls, she wanted to pretend they were all sisters and that they could pretend the porch was their bedroom. "If she starts to projectile vomit pea soup, I'll hit her over the head with it. There's a church up the road, so you can run and get some holy water or a pastor or something. I'll hold her down until you get back." We looked at each other and laughed.

"She obviously got her intelligence from her mother. Have you heard her dad talk?" Sarah smirked. "Definitely not the sharpest tool in the shed."

"That would explain why he latched onto Liz. Any smarter and he'd see straight through her crap, just like Paul did. I guess he's a good accountant, though."

"Idiot savant. I've read about them, but never thought I'd meet one."

"No, idiot savants are autistic and screamingly intelligent. Anthony just happens to be good with an adding machine and filling in ledger book columns."

Sarah put her arm around my shoulders. "So that's Liz's Prince Charming, her knight in shining armor. Oh, how the mighty have lowered their standards!"

"Amen. If I ever get like her, you have my permission to use heroic measures to save me from myself. You, Regina, and Erica. Tie me down, lock me away…whatever you have to do."

"I'd do it even if I didn't have your permission. Friends don't let friends make mistakes like that, and no way I want to have to deal with someone like _that_ at family get-togethers."

"I'm sure he has his good points." I thought for a moment. "I don't know what they are yet, but I'm sure he has some. On the subject of Princes Most Charming, how's yours?"

"Jim's fine. He's over talking to Derek, Regina's boyfriend." I could almost hear Sarah glow with excitement when she spoke. "I can't believe we been married almost a year now. It seems like it's only been a month or two!"

I chuckled. "Give it another year and see if you're still so enamored with the way he leaves his nail clippings all over the carpet and forgets to put the toilet seat down when he's done."

"I am _not_ enamored with falling into the toilet." She swatted me. "I never have been, and I don't think it's cute how he leaves his clothes in a heap on the floor instead of putting them in the hamper, either. I _am_ in love with the fact he's a good cook and makes dinner most nights—because he wants to—and he's good about taking out the garbage."

"A veritable paragon of male virtue. Happy thought, indeed." I laughed when she swatted me again. "Seriously, I'm glad to hear you and Jim are doing well. You done picked yourself a good husband."

As I got to know Anthony better while we ate lunch, I was forced to add 'duller than stagnant water', 'the personality of cardboard', and 'affectionate as a rock' (with Liz; he showed some spark of life with Francie) to his list of qualities.

"So, how'd you two get engaged?" I asked during dinner. "Was it romantic?"

Anthony looked at me blankly for a moment. "No, not really. We were talking about our relationship—"

"Which we've been taking slow," Liz interrupted. "We don't want to rush into things. We were talking about our relationship and how we're good friends and Anthony asked if maybe we should get married, and I asked if that meant we were engaged, and he said 'I guess so'." Liz beamed. "I was so thrilled to finally be engaged!"

I took a bite out of my burger so I wouldn't have to speak. _That_ was the proposal? Anthony said maybe they should get married? How totally underwhelming, and was it even a proposal if you had to clarify things before you were sure? What was with Liz being thrilled she was engaged? Not that she was thrilled to be engaged to Anthony, but just that she was thrilled to be engaged, period? It sounded like she was in love with the idea of engagement and marriage, not the guy she was engaged to be married to. I added Liz and Anthony to my mental list of things being single was better than, which also included the guy I'd almost dated who turned out to be a pedophile and the abusive jerk one of my dad's nieces had divorced two years back.

As the meal progressed, I noticed there were absolutely no signs of affection between Liz and Anthony. None. No casual touches, no holding hands, no fond looks, nothing. There was never any mention of love or having affection for one another, or even being fond of the other person. Just talk about being very good friends and bland smiles. The only times Liz really got excited was when she talked about buying the engagement ring.

"The token that says 'I'm taken'!" she quipped brightly, holding up her left hand to show off a square cut diamond on a gold band at least the size of the fingernail on her ring finger.

"Like the 'Sold' stickers they put on large items at the supermarket?" I smiled brightly. "Nothing like being able to show the world you're someone's possession."

Liz's elation faded. "I didn't say that."

"Didn't you? You said you have physical means to show everyone you're taken, which is exactly what a 'Sold' sticker does. It tells the world that you belong to someone, so it's just splitting hairs if you're talking about wearing an engagement ring or a 'Sold' sticker on a bag of cat litter. It's proof you're someone's possession." I gave her a double thumbs up. "Susan B. Anthony would be so proud. I think I hear her rolling in her grave now. Want to come with me later and we can go see for ourselves?"

Liz regarded me scornfully. "How are you going to do that? Flap your arms and fly to another state?"

"No, I'll get in my car and drive to the cemetery nearby where she's buried. Frederick Douglass is there, too. You can tell him all about why it's great to be a possession." Before Liz could say anything, I stood up. "You'll have to excuse me. The lack of self-respect over here is making me rather sick."

I stalked over to where the intelligent ladies my age were sitting with their men (Erica was solo).

"Sanctuary, I beg of you!" I said dramatically. "I would've fallen over, dead, from boredom and lack of romance if I'd stayed over there with Cardboard and Plywood much longer."

Sarah and Regina moved so there was room for me between them.

"That bad?" Regina asked sympathetically.

"Worse. I asked how Anthony had proposed and, I kid you not, he told me—or should I say, he started to tell me and Liz interrupted him and did all the talking for him and she told me that they'd been talking about their relationship, which they were taking slow and she made sure to emphasize that, and how they're good friends and Anthony said something about how maybe they should get married. Liz asked if that meant they were engaged, and Anthony said something like 'I guess so'."

There was a moment of silence as my cousins processed what I'd told them.

"_That_ is how he proposed? Good lord, warm pudding is more exciting than that!" Erica sounded offended and put out. "Isn't Liz the one who was going on and on last year about how romantic her ex-boyfriends were? I can't believe she'd actually marry a guy like that."

"Sarah would've slapped me and told me I'd have to do better than that, right, babe?" Jim looked at Sarah.

"I'd have demanded to know who you were and what you'd done with my boyfriend. You are definitely not that lame."

"Glad you've noticed." He gave her a quick kiss. "I'm not romantic, just ask Sarah—" Sarah nodded "—and even I can tell that's pathetic."

"Jim's idea of a romantic proposal," Sarah said, "was a bunch of carnations from Wegmans and a bottle of wine when we were on the sofa after dinner, and he said he wanted me to spend the rest of my life with him, and then practically shoved the ring box at me. I had to open it and put the ring on myself!" She held up her left hand to show off her diamond solitaire. "He had good taste in rings, though." She leaned toward Jim and kissed him. "I'm working on teaching him how to be romantic. He got me flowers the other day just because."

"Congratulations. You're making progress," Regina, grinning.

"Who're Liz and Anthony?" Derek asked, and Jim echoed him.

Sarah, Regina, Erica, and I took turns filling Derek and Jim in on the freak show that was the Patterson clan and those foolish and crazy enough to marry into it.

"Does she have any other choice than to marry Anthony?" Regina asked sardonically when we finished. "It's not like there are any other guys lining up to ask for her hand." We all cracked up. "Don't forget she's an ancient twenty-six and if she doesn't marry soon, she'll become an Old Maid and be doomed to spinsterhood forever!" She struck a melodramatic pose.

"You mean like me?" I remarked dryly. "I'm a withered twenty-nine and only six months from hitting my 'Sell By' date when I turn thirty. I'd put a few hundred dollars on the fact that Elly has, at least once, offered my mom her condolences on the fact I'm unlikely to ever get married. As you can tell, I'm horribly broken up over my fate and so upset I can hardly eat." I grabbed a pickle off Sarah's plate and took a large bite out of it. "Anyone want to come shopping with me tomorrow for dowdy high-necked dresses and granny boots? Actually, scratch that. I'm going to be a Crazy Cat Lady, so I'll need baggy sweaters with lots of pockets and shapeless grey sack dresses and a big house for the hundreds of cats I, as a Crazy Cat Lady, must own. Oh! I just remembered. After Liz said Anthony told her 'I guess so' when she asked if they were engaged, Liz was just glowing when she said how excited she was to be engaged. She didn't say she was excited to be engaged to Anthony, or being engaged to a man she loved, or even a great guy who adored her, or anything like that. Just excited to be engaged, and then she starts talking about the engagement ring and called it, and I quote, 'the token that says "I'm taken."'"

"The _hell_?" Regina exclaimed. "What shit is that? The token that says 'I'm taken'? Why doesn't she just tattoo 'Sold' on her forehead? It would be a lot cheaper."

"I said it sounds like the 'Sold' sticker they put on big items at the grocery store and there's nothing like showing the world you're someone's possession. She denied saying it, and I pointed out to her how her ring and a 'Sold' sticker are both declaring to the world that you belong to someone, and that she just made Susan B. Anthony and Frederick Douglass roll in their graves over in Mount Hope Cemetery."

Erica laughed. "That's great! Awesome smack down!"

"Thanks. I wish they didn't make it so easy, though. The Pattersons," I explained when I saw Derek's confused expression. "Like shooting fish in an overstuffed barrel."

I managed to avoid Liz and her faithful puppy dog for most of the evening, but all good things must come to an end and she managed to corner me behind the house later in the afternoon.

"I forgive you for being nasty earlier," she said without preamble. "I know it's because you're jealous."

I burst out laughing so hard I had to lean against the house for support. Me, jealous Liz was excited about settling for a guy with the appeal of wilted lettuce, the personality of driftwood, and more boring that watching grass grow? Jealous of a lukewarm, indecisive proposal so ambiguous and vague Liz had to find out what he meant? Jealous she was more excited about letting the world know she was property than she was about who she was marrying and of a relationship more frigid and devoid of passion than dry ice? How many hits of acid had she dropped before coming to that conclusion? The mental picture of Liz locking herself in the bathroom and getting high made me laugh even harder.

When I finally stopped laughing and was able to stand on my own, I apologized.

"I wasn't laughing at you, just that you think I'm jealous of you, which couldn't be farther from the truth."

"Of course." Liz's already-smug expression grew even smugger, if such a thing were possible. "So what was it, then? You're happy for me?"

I pinched my lips together for a moment to keep from laughing again. "If I was, I'd say so. I didn't mean to be nasty, and I apologize if I was. I have a bad habit of speaking before thinking and saying exactly what's on my mind."

Friends have a word for her expression just then: gobsmacked. I wasn't sure if it was because the idea of someone not being thrilled for her might not have an ulterior motive was entirely foreign to her, but it didn't matter. Whatever the reason, she hadn't been expecting my answer.

I leaned back against the house, crossed my arms over my chest, and waited for Liz to snap out of it. I suppose I could've walked away, but I'd never been one to back down when a smartass got in my face unless there was a very good reason (read: I could end up getting pounded) and Liz would've taken my walking away as proof she was right.

I didn't have to wait long for the smug conceit to return.

"Whatever. I know you're jealous because I have a man and won't end up an old maid no man wants like you will. I totally understand why you'd be jealous, and I am sorry you've ended up like this. Maybe if you'd dressed more like a lady—"

"Stuff it." I took a step toward her. "Just because you're insecure and think your worth as a person is determined by what rings you wear doesn't mean all of us are that shallow and pathetic. Some of us have a life and know our worth has nothing to do with our marital status and that there are more things in life worth achieving than an Mrs. in front of our last name. _I_ haven't been wasting my time worrying about why I'm not in a relationship because I have better things to do, like living my life to the fullest and enjoying myself. _I_ will have a fabulous, full life regardless of if I ever get married. _You_ have let life pass you by because you've been too busy waiting around for something that's not guaranteed to actually get out there and live." I started to smirk. "You're the one people should feel sorry for, not me. You're settling, Liz, and that's sad. If you're honest with yourself, you're not marrying Anthony because you want to spend the rest of your life with him, you're marrying him for the sake of being married."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Liz hissed, eyes narrowed. "Anthony's a great guy and we're really good friends."

"But do you _love_ him? Where's the excitement and passion? You two show absolutely no affection to one another, not even holding hands. You used to get excited about the guys you were with, and now all you show excitement over is no longer being single. You want to marry for the sake of being married so you can feel like you're worth something and your life won't be a total waste, knock yourself out. Live like it's 1899 if that's your thing. Just remember the rest of us live like it's 2008, where engagement rings are a symbol of commitment and that you're going to spend the rest of your life with someone you love, not, to use your words, a token that says 'I'm taken'. Our lives don't revolve around getting married before thirty and we know better than to think life isn't worth anything if you're not married, and we're _not_ jealous of you. At all. Especially not me. The last thing I want is a loveless marriage."

"At least I have someone who wants to marry me. That's more than you."

'You have no idea, you self-righteous bint,' I thought angrily, struggling to reign in my temper and keep from swearing the air blue as I ripped her a new one. 'Deep breath. Just breathe deeply and remember you have nothing to prove.'

Liz took my silence to mean she was right and smiled in the way you would if you were looking at a little child you didn't particularly like but had to be nice to.

"Don't feel too badly, Olivia," she smirked. "Not everyone's meant to be married."

"You mean April?" I affected a quizzical expression, intentionally misunderstanding her. "That's pretty harsh, especially considering she's only sixteen."

"That's not who I meant." Liz regarded me with thinly veiled contempt.

I smiled stiffly. "Who, then? I received a proposal in 2004 when I was in the UK. He was most passionate and…extremely persuasive." Remembering, I could almost feel Chris' lips on mine again and the way he pleaded with me to stay in London instead of returning to the States the next morning. "I was, to put it mildly, crushed and devastated when, two months later, he broke the engagement."

Liz regarded me for a moment, and then laughed disdainfully. "You expect me to believe that?" she sneered. "You made that up. If he loved you enough to marry you, he wouldn't have broken it off two months later."

"Out of sight, out of mind, I suppose. Long-distance relationships have a nasty habit of falling apart." Especially when he's bloody impatient and doesn't want to wait anymore.

The look Liz gave me then was pure venom. "You bitch; how dare you bring up what happened with Paul!" She made to slap me but I managed to step back quick enough to avoid being hit.

"I was talking about why _my _engagement fell apart, not whatever was going on with you and the guy where you used to teach," I spat. "Believe it or not, not everything is about you."

"You are so full of it, Olivia. I know you're lying, so just stop. I'm sorry you feel so inadequate that you have to make up stories and take potshots at me."

I gave a short bark of laughter. "You're incredible. Just because you haven't been informed of something doesn't mean it never happened, and you assume I have to be burning with jealousy of you and your life because I've made no secret of the fact I think Anthony's duller than wet cardboard and I think your excitement about being a possession is disgusting. News flash: You can't be jealous when you don't give a damn, and mine's busted. The rest of the world isn't going to give much of a damn, either, once the initial excitement is over. _You're not special_. You're another woman who got engaged. Whoopie-doo." I waived my finger in the air. "A ring doesn't make you better than the rest of us and you won't get special treatment because of it. Your life won't get easier and you definitely won't have fewer problems than before, and if you felt empty inside before it'll still be there after the honeymoon ends and you have to go back to the daily grind, and before you scoff and blow me off as not knowing what I'm talking about, that's what married couples have to say about marriage. I have no doubt you'll find ways to explain away what I just told you so you can go on believing marriage is the answer to everything, the same way you explained away everything I said when you moved in with Eric." I shook my head sadly. "Honestly, I feel sorry for you."

"_Why_ do you feel sorry for me?"

"Because you're so desperate not to be single, you're settling. It's sad."

Her eyes narrowed. "The only thing that's sad is you, who's going to end up an old maid."

"Sticks and stone, dear." I smiled brightly. "Marriage isn't a race. There's no prize for saying your vows before anyone else. I'm not in any hurry, and you've strengthened my resolve not to be in any rush. When I get engaged, I'll have two things you don't."

"What, a walker and an oxygen tank?

"My pride and dignity, intact." I turned and walked away. 'Pwnd!' I thought gleefully, humming 'We Will Rock You'. 'Olivia 4, Liz 0.'

Like a bad case of jock itch, what I'd assumed was the end of the problem was only a lull in the storm. Thankfully, when she decided to have another go after dinner, I was with Sarah.

We were underneath the maple tree in the backyard, shooting the bull and trading advice on life, love, and other mysteries of life when Sarah poked my arm.

"Trouble at ten o'clock." She pointed to a figure striding toward us.

"What the _heck_ does she want _now_?" I groaned. "To let me know she's aware of my plans to seduce Anthony away from her?"

"You sly person, you, leading us all to believe you didn't like him. For shame!" Sarah lightly swatted my arm. "I never knew you were the type to go for no personality."

"Oh, yeah, just love the guys who are duller than dishwater. And here she is. Smile! It makes people wonder what you're up to. What can we do for you, Liz?"

The younger of the two Patterson harpies glared down at me. "You," she said, spraying me with a shower of spit, "went way over the line, saying I don't have my pride and dignity and that I settled for Anthony because I'm afraid of being single!"

I calmly wiped my glasses as clean as I could on the hem of my shirt, and then cleaned my face.

"And you went way over the line with your baseless accusation that I'm jealous of you and that I made up the marriage proposal I received in 2004. Oh, and I'd really appreciate it if you'd keep your spit to yourself. I have enough of my own, thanks." I smiled sanguinely. "Now that we've established both of us need to work on our manners, is there anything else?"

"We're not done!" A fresh shower of saliva rained down. "I am _not_ afraid of being single and I am _not_ settling! Are you laughing at me?" Liz turned her attention to Sarah, who'd just given a brief snort of laughter.

"Why would I do that?" Sarah was all sweetness and innocence. "That would be rude."

Liz glared at her for a long moment, clearly not believing her, but when Sarah didn't suddenly crack and start begging Liz's forgiveness for laughing at her, she returned to chewing me out.

"You didn't have to be so mean to me. We're both adults and we should act like adults."

Sarah snorted with laughter again, but made no effort to hide it.

"Is that why you're whining?" Sarah asked Liz. "Take your own advice."

"I am not whining!" Liz stomped her foot angrily. "I am mad because Olivia was mean."

Sarah turned toward me. "Definitely acting like an adult, wouldn't you agree? The stomping…very mature. And whining about you being mean…very eloquently put."

"Vintage kindergarten. I feel like I'm five years old again." I held Liz's gaze while I spoke. "If your feelings were hurt because I called your delusions for what they are and rained on your celebration of your own importance and burst your bubble about marriage being all happiness and bliss, you're wasting my time so please take your pity party elsewhere."

"Marriage being happiness and bliss?" Sarah began laughing. "Oh, yeah, nothing but sunshine all the time! Jim never puts watching the game over spending time with me and he always listens and I only had to ask him once to stop belching 'you're welcome' when I say 'thank you'. Oh, and the sex is always fabulous. I have an orgasm every single time!" That set her off laughing again.

When Sarah started talking about sex, Liz's face became a bright red that turned to purple when Sarah mentioned orgasms. Smiling, I put an arm around Sarah.

"What wrong?" I asked Liz brightly. "Did Sarah say something that upset you? You're awfully flushed."

Liz, eyes wide, said, "You don't talk about your sex life in public!"

"We're not in public, we're in my parents' back yard and none of the neighbors are out, not that anyone would be surprised to hear Sarah say the sex isn't fab for her all the time, since they're all married." I shrugged. "It's not like she's talking about BDSM or anything. You do know what BDSM is, right?" I asked in response to Liz's confused expression.

"What is it? A kind of birth control?"

"No." 'Oh. My. Gosh. Don't. Laugh.' I bit my tongue hard. 'She's twenty-six and thinks BDSM is a type of birth control.'

"You've never heard of bondage and sadomasochism?" Sarah was incredulous. "What rock have you been living under?" She sighed. "Ever heard of the Kama Sutra?"

Liz thought for a moment. "It's some Indian book about love, right?"

"You could say that." The urge to laugh was becoming harder to control. "It talks about different sexual positions—and has drawings—and other ways to obtain pleasure and satisfaction during sexual intercourse."

Liz turned deep purple again. "How do you know about these things? I can understand why Sarah would, but Olivia…what have you been doing?"

"Having her head filled with dirty, dirty thoughts by wicked, wicked people," Sarah told her darkly.

I leaned against Sarah. "I've done just fine filling my own head, thanks. The internet's been a huge help, with all the stuff they didn't mention in health class. Like ben wa balls." At that, I lost it and it was Sarah's turn to deal with Liz's profound naïveté of all things sexual.

Despite the fact she was going to be married, Liz proved incredibly resistant to our sullying her pure, virgin ears with filthy talk about sex.

"My mom will tell me everything I need to know," Liz proclaimed defensively. "I'm not interested in what perverts and deviants do."

"But it's so much fun!" Sarah remarked blithely.

"The Bible glorifies married sex, Liz," I told her, "so loosen up. Enjoying sex when you're married isn't a bad thing. Unless it's with someone other than your spouse, but that's a whole other discussion."

Liz clearly didn't believe me. "It does? Where?"

"Song of Solomon, or Song of Songs. A whole book of the Bible. It's a conversation between Solomon and his bride about how much they enjoy each other's bodies. He talks about her neck and breasts and thighs and—"

"Stop!" Liz had her hands on her ears. "There's no way something like that is in the Bible. I can't believe you, a Christian, would like about something like that, Olivia."

"And you know this because…why?" The irony was delicious. "Unlike you, I actually _read_ my Bible on a regular basis. It's not just there for show, collecting dust on the living room bookshelf, like yours, if you even have one. You have chutzpah, acting like you know more than me. I'd be more than happy to go inside and get a Bible and you can look through it to see for yourself. I'll get you some salt, too, for when you have to eat your words with a side of crow." I stood up. "I'll be right back."

"Fine, fine, you're right," Liz admitted grudgingly. "Whatever. I'll talk to my mom and she'll tell me everything I need to know."

"Like lie back and think of England," Sarah snarked. "Or Canada, in your case."

"You—" I smacked Sarah's leg as I sat down"—are terrible. Don't ask," I told Liz, who was looking confused again.

"How do you know all this, Olivia? I didn't think Christians like you knew about sex."

Christians like me. Apparently, I'd missed the memo announcing there were now different types of Christians and I'd definitely missed the one letting me know I wasn't supposed to know anything about sex. It was a miracle God hadn't smote me yet, walking around and knowing about sex. The horror, knowing how babies were made! Thank God for Creasters like Liz to tell me how Christians were supposed to behave. I never would've figured it out on my own, going to church each Sunday and reading my Bible during the week. I was definitely going to enjoy setting Liz straight.

"It's not a mortal sin to know how babies are made, Liz. Where'd you ever get that idea? The media? They also say women need to have huge tits and the waist of a Barbie doll to be beautiful." Sarcasm and scorn, open throttle, full speed ahead. "Besides, even if it were a sin to know storks don't bring babies, I wasn't a Christian until I was seventeen and I don't live my life in some G-rated Christian bubble. I hear all sorts of stuff, including what my friends said over lunch one day about the best way to give a blowjob during lunch one day between classes. You have to be careful not to use your teeth at all." Liz's jaw went slack and Sarah's face was buried in my shoulder. I smiled as if nothing were amiss.

The key to shocking people was in the casual delivery, as if you were talking about the best way to display fresh-cut roses. It was a one-two punch. Shock 'em with the first, pause for a moment, then brightly say, "I look forward to getting married so I can finally start using what I know." If the person you were talking to were really uptight, like Liz was, that would be the end of conversation. Prudes went into mental overload at the thought of enjoying sex; you could practically see the smoke coming out of their ears. You could still shock less-uptight people, but you didn't fry their circuits and they usually smiled and were glad to know you weren't a moralistic prude who believed in lying there and thinking of England.

"So, where'd you get your ring?" Sarah asked Liz, breaking the silence.

Liz pulled her mouth closed. "Oh, um…I forget the name, but it was a mall jewelry store. Anthony and I went during my lunch break the day after he proposed to find a ring. It's a good thing I had a spare after my lunch or we'd really have had to rush."

"What's a spare?"

"A free period. I usually grade papers or whatever, but going for a ring was more important."

"Absolutely. Have to declare it to the world ASAP." I watched Liz's face to see how she'd react.

As I thought, her smile wilted and she looked at me suspiciously for a moment.

"What? You'd want everyone to know you were engaged. It's worth announcing. What'd you think I meant?" Sarah elbowed me in the side.

"Nothing. Anyway, there were so many gorgeous rings and I couldn't decide, and then Anthony asked if he could show me what he liked, and when he did, I loved it, too." She held out her left hand. "It has a matching wedding band and man's ring. We told the salesman what we wanted and he went in the back and they had our ring sizes so I got to try it on and it fit perfectly! It's like it's a sign or something!"

"A sign they had your sizes in stock," I said as I exhaled, leaning close to Sarah.

Liz, lost in her own world of bliss, was oblivious. "Then Anthony said they're made to last and the way he was looking at me, I knew he meant they would last, just like our marriage would!"

"Hopefully, it'll be death that parts you and nothing else." For once, it wasn't a huge strain to keep the sarcasm and sharp remarks in cheek, only a slight effort.

"What, are you saying we'll divorce?" Liz's face was all thunderclouds and accusations.

"Don't put words in my mouth. I said I hope your marriage lasts. About one quarter of all marriages end in divorce and I'd hate to see Francie go through that all over again, and I don't like to hear anyone's going through that kind of messy, painful split. The less pain people have to deal with, the better. The chance of divorce also becomes greater if one or both partners have been married once before."

"Therese walked out on him! He tried to make that marriage work!"

I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly through my nose. I was _not_ going to get into this. Not now. I was tired of dealing with her twisting what people said and putting words in my mouth and generally being a pain in the ass.

"Liz, shut up," I said calmly. "Just shut up and sit down and stop acting like everything someone says is an insult or proclamation of doom to come and stop acting like everyone's out to get you, because they're not. You stormed over here, got in my face, got in Sarah's face, called us deviants and perverts, and accused me of lying about what's in the Bible. Sarah tries to start a polite conversation and, twice—no three times, you went off on me because _you_ read way more into what I said than I ever meant. I didn't bring up Therese, I didn't bring up his first marriage at all, and I never said anything about who I thought was at fault. I was quoting something I'd read somewhere, and that was part of defending myself against your second baseless attack."

"You were nasty to me earlier."

"And? You weren't exactly a paragon of pleasantness yourself, and it's hours later so why are you still fixated on something that's over and done? You've been all prickly and defensive since you got over here. Sarah and I have humored you and tried to be polite. I can't speak for her, but I know I'm not in the mood to have my head bitten off every time I say something, so either quit with the pissy attitude or get lost."

"She said it perfectly," Sarah echoed. "Act like an adult."

"Sorry," Liz said mulishly.

"Why you chose this particular ring?" Sarah, once again, extended the olive branch.

"I didn't want a diamond that was too small because then people would think Anthony couldn't afford a nice ring and he's not that poor, and he did say he liked this one." She examined her left hand, clearly in love with what she saw.

"Yeah, I don't want a really dinky stone, either, but I'm not hung up on the size. Sarah, did Jim get you a diamond?" I grabbed her left hand and lifted it up so I could see. "Nice."

"It's small." Liz's words, ripe with unspoken criticism, cut Sarah deep and I felt her stiffen beside me. "If that's what you like, then I—"

"Fuck off," Sarah said stiffly. "Get the fuck away from me, you pretentious bitch, or I'll use my _small_ diamond to slice your fucking face open and make a _big_ mess."

Liz tried to say something a few times, jaw flapping uselessly like a dying fish gasping for water to suck back over its gills. She looked at me, as if to ask me what to do.

"What? You heard her."

"Don't let her attack me," Liz pleaded in a small voice. "Please."

"You ever hear the phrase, 'Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God'?" Stupid git, crouched less than two feet away from a Very Pissed woman who'd promised to make hamburger of her face if she didn't get lost.

Liz nodded dumbly. "So?"

"You know what it means?" Without waiting for an answer, I continued, "It means if you've been told how not to end up hurt and you choose to ignore that, don't blame God when you end up in a world of pain. You brought it on yourself."

"This is no time for a Bible lesson, Olivia!"

"Get her out of here NOW," Sarah hissed through clenched teeth.

"Try replacing God's name with mine." Truly, God truly did look after fools and children. That she'd escaped serious harm while living in M'tig was proof. Even bugs knew not to stick around when there was a threat.

"Olivia, help! Don't let her attack me! HELP!"

"Liz, if she attacks you now, you have no one to blame but yourself. I am holding her arms, but if she pulls free, you're on your own."

Anthony came charging around the garage and straight down the hill toward his damsel (who'd chosen to remain) in distress. He made an amusing picture as his tall, gangly frame careened down the slope.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" Anthony roared—or that's what I assumed he was trying for. It was very loud, whatever it was. "DON'T TOUCH HER!"

"I won't stop you if you want a chance at her," I remarked conversationally to Sarah. "I'm sure you can get a swipe at at least one cheek."

"With pleasure." Sarah lunged forward toward Liz, pulling free of the hold I had on her arms. Liz screamed as she fell backward, dragging Sarah down on top of her.


	2. Chapter 2

Sarah did, indeed, get one good swipe, cutting open Liz's right cheek, despite Anthony's attempts to pull her off his fiancée

Sarah did, indeed, get one good swipe, cutting open Liz's right cheek, despite Anthony's attempts to pull her off his fiancée. He, in between grunts as he tugged at Sarah's waist, asked me to help him, but I stood by the tree and watched. I hadn't been serious (much) about letting Sarah get in one good swipe but I'd have been lying to deny thinking Liz heartily deserved what she received.

I wasn't a violent person by nature and believed in using words to settle disputes instead of weapons. I also believed in giving people enough rope to hang themselves with and that, sometimes, it took the Clue By Four smashing over a person's head for learning to take place. Liz was clearly overdue for a good beating.

Suddenly, Anthony was falling backward onto his butt, Sarah was storming across the yard, and Liz was curled up in the fetal position, weeping pitifully as blood dripped from the shallow cut on cheek. I dashed after Sarah, much more concerned about her than the weeping mass of stupidity. I trusted Prince Charmless not to be so inept and stupid he couldn't handle a cut on her cheek, and if he was that inept and stupid, best to find out now so someone could call Millborough's Child Protective Services before something tragic happened to Francie, like bleeding to death from a scraped knee.

I caught up with Sarah around the far side of the house.

"Did you let go or did he pull you off?"

Sarah gave me a Look. "What do you think?"

"You let go." I grinned. "I figured as much, but it happened so fast and I wanted to know for when I start to get grilled about what happened. Nice job, by the way. A clean cut the length of the cheek, from what I saw, and I think it's shallow because it didn't seem to be bleeding much, but I didn't get a real good look."

"I hate her! She's a stupid fucking cow. Her ring is fugly, she's stupid and clueless, and Anthony's first wife was smart to walk the hell away from him. She should've taken the kid." Sarah hugged herself tightly and stared at the ground. "Jim saved for _four months_ for my ring! He said he was sorry he couldn't get a bigger diamond, but his Hog needed new tires." She laughed weakly. "I told him I didn't give a damn; that new tires were more important than a slightly larger stone. Who the hell is she to act like Queen Shit? Jim loves me and that's a hell of a lot more important that the size of the diamond!"

I gave her a side hug. "Exactly. Jim is a prince among men and the love that went into buying your ring is worth more than…a diamond so big only J Lo would be seen wearing it. You could have no ring and it wouldn't change what you and Jim have. It's not the size of the diamond, it's the size of his heart."

She laughed again. "Thanks. I know I shouldn't let her get to me, but…we're struggling to make ends meet and my parents help us out a lot. She comes in with her big fugly ring and acts like mine is just cut glass and gold paint and not worth shit and like there's no reason everyone shouldn't be able to sport huge rocks like she does."

"I wanted to throttle her for being such an insensitive, arrogant cow myself. She didn't have to make it sound like small means inferior and worthless. Like I said, the size of the stone doesn't matter, it's the love you two share. Diamonds last forever. That's why there are so many in pawnshops. I wonder if his first wife pawned the rock he bought her. That doesn't symbolize anything but vows that, ultimately, ended up meaning nothing. Big rocks are for those who feel the need to compensate for something."

"Can't be small dicks," Sarah quipped.

"Unless it's the guy who picks out the huge rock because he feels he has something to prove."

"Or apologize for." Sarah smirked and gestured to her crotch area.

"That, too." I hugged her again. "Cheer up, hon. Remember, you have the guy with personality and passion and is interesting and smart and who obviously loves you. You didn't settle, and—oh, I have to tell you what I said to Liz earlier." I repeated what I'd told Liz about having my pride and dignity intact. "I walked away then and let her stew in her self-righteous juices."

"Good one!" She laughed. "They're going to tell everyone Anthony heroically pulled me off of her with his big, strong, manly muscles and saved Liz from having her whole face clawed off."

"And that if it wasn't for Anthony, you'd have carved your name, and on the other cheek you'd have done a landscape in a style reminiscent of Van Gogh. And a Monet on her back!"

"You mean with my _small_ diamond?" She held up her left hand. "What could I do with such a pathetic little thing? Scratch glass?"

"Or would glass scratch your dinky little diamond?" I rolled my eyes. "I agree; her ring is fugly and screams 'I'm incredibly insecure'. That, and 'I'm not rich but I'm trying to make you think I am'. You'll want to clean your ring ASAP before the blood and whatever else got on it starts to damage the gold. I don't know if it'll do anything to the diamond, but better not to find out, know what I mean?"

"Excellent idea." Sarah pulled off her rings and slipped them into her pocket. "Let's go face the music."

As we'd expected, Anthony and Liz were singing a tale of woe any opera writer would love to everyone who'd come running (Liz sang the melody, Anthony echoing a moment later). Elly was singing a teeth-grindingly annoying counterpoint about how Sarah clearly hadn't been raised right and was clearly jealous Anthony could afford a decent ring. John was standing there, providing the rhythmic, steady bass line of murmured platitudes while patting Liz's shoulder.

Derek and Uncle Dave were with Jim, who was glaring at Elly with potent fury. I couldn't make out what they were saying to Jim, but I knew they were trying to keep him from losing it. Sarah's parents, Rachel and Tom, were talking with my parents, and I sent up a silent prayer for parental understanding and mercy. They knew Liz had a victim mentality and loved to be the center of attention and that she made even a minor scrape out to be a big deal. She'd freaked out two years ago when she'd tripped and skinned her knee on the driveway because she was certain dirt and germs had been ground into her leg and infection was a certainty, and what if the Flesh Eating Bacteria had gotten in there? Elly had jumped right onto that one and wanted to douse Liz's knee with hydrogen peroxide and alcohol and every other form of antiseptic and disinfectant anyone had on hand.

"Just get a clean washcloth and clean it with soap and water and put a bandage over it," I'd counseled. "Alcohol and hydrogen peroxide will only kill off healthy cells in the wound that are necessary for quick, speedy healing." I'd heard that from more than one source, including my Surgical Nursing and Anesthesia class when I was training to be a vet tech. "It's very shallow and not that big, so rinsing it and cleaning it with soap and water will be fine. I'll go find some antibiotic ointment you could smear over it and that'll help prevent any infection." Chances of infection were small, as anyone who's ever had a scraped knee can vouch for, but trying to convince them of that would be an exercise in futility. Better to humor them with a concession to their paranoia and move on as quickly as possible.

Elly heatedly challenged my statements about peroxide and alcohol, saying her mother had used those and she'd used those and never heard anything about problems and her kids had healed up just fine and who was I to challenge what had been known for hundreds of years.

"I'm a Licensed Veterinary Technician, Elly. It's my _job_ to know that kind of thing. My surgical nursing and anesthesia class spent two weeks on the physiology of the healing process and how best to care for wounds to ensure quick, scar-less healing and minimize risk of infection. My information is less than a year old and comes from credible sources."

"You work with animals. How would you know about humans?"

"Because humans are mammals, and the bulk of my education dealt with mammals. Also, the cells of the human body are eukaryotic and aerobic, the same as the bacteria you want to use alcohol and hydrogen peroxide to kill, so dermal cells are going to be killed off the same as bacteria. So, like I said, let's take a pass on those two things and go with a good cleaning using soap and water. I'll go find the first aid kit and meet you in the downstairs powder room, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, I turned and went inside. I knew most, if not all, of what I'd said had gone totally over Elly's head and that's exactly what I'd intended. Let her chew on 'eukaryotic' and 'aerobic' and 'dermal'. If I'd remembered how, exactly, alcohol killed cells and what peroxide reacted with in the cells to make them explode, I'd probably have thrown that in, too. If you can't convince them with reason, baffle them with bullshit. Bullshit or lots of big words. When you used big words, few people, I'd found, would challenge what you'd just said because they didn't want to let on they had no idea what you'd been talking about.

Later, I translated what I'd said to Elly into Plain English for the rest of the family: the bacteria and human skin cells are the same kinds of cells, so what kills the bacteria is going to kill the skin cells, too. I threw in a little bit of Plain English about why it was important not to kill off the healthy cells and said I'd see what I could do to get people some of the Really Fabulous and Very Expensive antibiotic ointment vet clinics used, because I'm nice like that.

"There she is!" Elly cried, pointing at Sarah and me. I was tempted to waive, but decided not to. It was never a good idea to provoke an irate animal. "Why did you attack my daughter? Answer me!"

Sarah totally ignored Elly, walking calmly over to her parents. In the background, Elly continued what the rest of us called her honk-and-flap, in honor of how she reminded us of irate Canada geese when she was worked up, and started to advance toward Sarah, demanding answers and justice for her poor, injured daughter.

"Elly, please be quiet for a minute so we can hear Sarah's side of the story," Aunt Rachel told the complaining woman in the same tone of voice you'd use to tell a child to sit down and be quiet or they can forget TV for the next three days.

Elly, to my surprise, only made a few more token protests before falling silent. Aunt Rachel inclined her head toward Sarah, as if to say, "Your turn."

Sarah started to speak, but was cut off almost immediately by Liz, who was protesting about how she hadn't been argumentative and confrontational and Sarah was trying to make her look bad.

"Why would she?" Regina demanded. "You do a great job of that on your own!"

There was a clamber of voices as Anthony, Liz, and Elly sang their protests and Erica, Regina, and Sarah laughed. Uncle David told everyone to be quiet and let Sarah continue. A few stern looks from him at the offenders brought silence in short order, and Sarah continued. I occasionally spoke up, corroborating and expanding on what Sarah had said.

"I was shocked when, instead of taking off, Liz stayed right where she was after Sarah threatened to carve her face up and she begged me not to let Sarah attack her. If someone said they'd attack me if I didn't get lost, I'd definitely be making tracks as fast as possible, so it made no sense to me why Liz didn't." I shrugged slightly. "Yes, I did bring up the Bible verse she mentioned, the one about not tempting God. She seems to have forgotten the part where I told her, in plain English, that it means if someone knows how to avoid danger but they still choose to put themselves in the middle of it, they shouldn't blame God when they end up in a world of pain. Liz asked me what I was doing giving a Bible lesson and I told her to replace God's name with mine. I thought she'd get it at that point, but she just begged me to keep Sarah from attacking her and screamed for help."

"Why didn't you protect her?" John demanded. "Why did you let Sarah attack her?"

The profound stupidity of the Pattersons rendered me silent for a moment. When the urge to beat my head against something very hard until the pain stopped passed, I said, in as level and calm a voice as I could manage, "I did not 'let' Sarah attack her. As you can see—" I flexed my (lack of) biceps "—I don't have much in the way of upper body strength. I was holding Sarah's arms, but there's absolutely no way I'd be able to restrain someone pumped up on rage and adrenalin who wanted to get away from me, which is what happened. Also, like I said, Liz chose to stay right where she was. No one was forcing her to stay there. In fact, Sarah was telling her to go away and I told Liz in several different ways that if she stayed, it was on her head if she ended up getting attacked. _Her_ stupidity is not _my_ fault."

Elly and John protested against my calling Liz stupid and, once again, blamed me for their daughter being attacked. I looked at my parents with a shoot-me-now expression and mimed putting a gun to my head and pulling the trigger. They smiled sympathetically and Dad gestured for me to come over to where they were, an offer I gladly accepted.

Anthony started talking about how he'd dragged Sarah off his fiancée and it had been a major struggle to get Sarah to release her death grip on Liz, and was promptly cut off by a loud "Bullshit!" from Sarah.

"I _chose_ to let go of Lizardbreath," she said distainfully. "Anthony was trying to pull me backward, which wasn't going to do anything with the way I had a hold on Liz and was pinning her down. He did help me drag my ring down her cheek, so thanks." She blew Anthony, who turned deep red, a kiss. "At that point, my ears were starting to really ring from Liz screaming so close to them, so I let go. Anthony made an excellent cushion to land on." She smiled sweetly. I pinched my lips together tightly so I wouldn't laugh.

"Why didn't you run, Liz?" Uncle David asked, and several others voiced the same sentiment.

"I—I—I was too afraid to move," she whimpered.

"You're either—you either have less sense than God gave a tree stump or you're the only human being I know who's not equipped with the Fight or Flight instinct," I snapped. "You have no one to blame but yourself for the fact Sarah had such an easy time of attacking you." I rolled my eyes.

"She shouldn't have attacked me!" Righteous indignation was heavy in Liz's voice.

"I wouldn't have if you'd gotten lost like I told you to. I didn't exactly have to hunt you down." The scorn in Sarah's voice was withering and any other person probably would've started waiving a white flag and saying "Mea culpa" then and there. Liz had such a profoundly self-righteous victim mentality, however, it didn't faze her. She just glared at Sarah and said something about how Sarah shouldn't have done anything to her and how Sarah was rude and needed help, and then turned to Elly and, sobbing, buried her face in Elly's shoulder.

"We'll be leaving now," Elly spat. "I can only hope my daughter's face won't be permanently scarred."

"Have a safe drive home," my mom said, perhaps a little too brightly.

A scathing letter, detailing every bit of minutiae that had been to her disliking during the visit, arrived from Elly several days later. Both she and my mother had graduated to email a few years before, which made sharing and discussing what Elly had to say each month with the rest of the family much quicker and easier. The few who didn't have email were brought into the loop quickly enough and the phone was busier than usual for a day or two. A week later, Elly was very relieved to report that the doctor had taken a look at Liz's cheek and given her a positive prognosis. The cut, he'd decided, was a shallow one and as long as the wound didn't re-open there was little to no risk of scarring.

To everyone's surprise, Liz and Anthony decided to elope in late August. Elly was devastated by the loss of her opportunity to plan a big, elaborate wedding and see her eldest daughter float down the aisle on her father's arm, dressed all in white.

"Why are you surprised?" Sarah said over IM the evening after we heard the news. "You know their idea of 'taking it slow' is to inexplicably do nothing for months on end and then suddenly act on impulse."

"Very true. So did you see this coming?"

"Not the timing, but the only thing left for them to impulsively do was get hitched, so it doesn't surprise me they eloped." After a moment, she asked, "They'd known each other for years and years, so why the heck were they not doing anything for months and months? What was all that 'taking it slow' stuff? From what Elly's emails said, Liz and Anthony started dating after her friend's wedding and it was clear from the start they were more than friends. Who did she think she was fooling?"

"Everyone, apparently. Her family bought it. Dunno about her friends. If they saw through it, they didn't let on. I understand wanting to see if getting more serious is what they both wanted to do and all that, but I wouldn't blather on about being friends. I'd say Anthony and I had decided to consider getting more serious and we were seeing if it would work at the moment. What really blows my mind is she was still talking about going slow and being friends after Anthony and Francie came to Christmas dinner. That's as good as screaming it to the world that you're Definitely Serious with them, know what I mean?"

"It's like she was saying what she thought everyone wanted to hear and was doing what she thought she was supposed to be doing but had no idea so she crossed her fingers and hoped she got it right. She didn't want people to think she was rushing into anything and being hasty, so she starts broadcasting that they're going slow and they think what that means months and months of their relationship going nowhere. She thinks that because she's saying she's going slowly, everyone's going to listen to that and dismiss any thoughts that Christmas dinner means the same thing with her and Anthony that it means with the rest of the world. After what they—I mean, she feels is enough time to have been going slowly, it's time to do what she's wanted since the beginning. Until the opportunity to coax Anthony into proposing, though, she still talks about going slow. Then, out of nowhere, they go from friends to engaged. She thinks that everyone will call her a hussy and frown on her if she and Anthony get married ASAP, so she still talks about going slow, right up to the moment she and Anthony go and get hitched because they feel they've 'gone slow' long enough. It's like when you first start dating. You don't have any idea what to do, so you guess at what you think you're supposed to be doing and how long you're supposed to hold hands before kissing and stuff like that."

"You were reading my mind, weren't you? ;) I felt like she was just going through the motions and speaking lines, too. It was pathetically funny how totally transparent it all was. They're in their late twenties, for pete's sake. Stop acting like you have to go through some rigid Victorian social pantomime and just be honest! Do you really think Elly would disapprove if Liz had married six months or more ago? Me, neither."

Life, as it always does, brought along far more pressing and important matters to spend time and energy on than the dysfunctional life of Liz Patterson, such as losing my job and having to find another one before I was evicted from my apartment and the phone and electric turned off and making sure I had food to eat. What Sarah had said after attacking Liz stuck in my mind, though, and I found myself thinking of that evening often. That Jim would save for four months for a ring deeply impressed and touched me. He didn't make much working at his dad's repair shop, and I knew putting the money aside instead of using it to meet expenses had been a big sacrifice. I still smiled and chuckled at his apology for not getting a bigger diamond because his Hog needed new tires. Silly boy, feeling bad because the ring wasn't as grand as he'd wanted it to be. All women should have a man like that and I hoped I'd be as lucky whenever I got married.

That Liz had dismissed Sarah's ring as if it were nothing offended me the most. Money had been tight growing up and I'd rarely received anything big or fancy because we just couldn't afford it. I'd learned to recognize the love and effort that went into the gifts I received, so Liz's total blindness to the true value of Sarah's ring really infuriated me. She'd lived in comfortable excess her entire life and never wanted for anything. She expected lots of gifts on Christmas and birthdays and how much the giver cared was reflected in how Big and Fancy or Really Unique the gift was. Nothing small was of any real value in the mind of someone like that. Liz giving away her grandfather's harmonica to a kid up in M'tig was a clear example. April had given it to Liz, thinking Liz would appreciate and understand it was an heirloom and was significant because it had belonged to their grandfather. When Liz discovered one of her students in M'tig had stolen it from her, she'd treated it like it wasn't a big deal and let him keep it. Last I heard, she hadn't gone to visit M'tig in over a year and I doubted she was in regular touch with anyone up there, especially after what happened with Paul. April had been devastated and furious when she found out what Liz had done. An object of immeasurable value, treated casually because it was old and dirty and, on the surface, nothing special. Insulting Sarah was, for me, the last straw. Liz thought size mattered? Fine. I had the connections to lots of (costume) bling, so first chance I got, I was going to make Liz's stone look like a diamond chip. I'd show her just how small hers really was. Hopefully, she'd gain a shred or two of humility from the experience.

Friends in New York City had been urging me to move down there and look for a job, especially my friend, Kyle, who said he'd cover costs until I could get on my feet.

"Everyone will think you're my sugar daddy," I told him over IM. "I do not want to deal with rumors like that and you know how gossip spreads on Broadway."

"You'll find a job in no time down here, so you don't need to worry about that, and you'd be living with a friend of mine, Laurie, who needs a roomie to split the rent with her. Not exactly sugar daddy material. I can find out what theaters need more stagehands and ask people to put in a good word for you."

"Your friend likes cats, right?"

"Of course. I know how you are. She loves cats and begged me to convince you to move in with her."

"Tell her she'll have to be cat-less at least a little bit longer. I'll keep it in mind. Thanks."

The Rochester economy was about as dead as Charles Dickens, so, in October, I took Kyle up on his offer (much to the joy of all my friends in New York City). Laurie was ecstatic, a fact she stated numerous times when she emailed me.

"I am so looking forward to meeting you! This is going to be great! I really miss my parents' cats so I am so excited you are bringing your cats! It is just great to pet a cat and relax, isn't it? I am in _Spamalot_. Kyle says you love _Spamalot_. How many times have you seen it? Kyle says you are very familiar with the schedule theater people keep, which I am really glad about! Now I do not need to worry about making sure my roomie knows to be quiet in the mornings and that she does not take it personally when I come home and go straight to bed. This is going to be great!"

I stopped reading, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. One email and I already felt the desire to shove a sock in her mouth to stop the perky. Finding a job as quickly as possible once I got to the City took on new urgency, because I knew I'd lose it if I had to spend too much time with Little Miss Sunshine. I was surprised she hadn't said anything about how she knew we were going to be great friends. I realized I hadn't finished reading her email, and continued.

"Oh, yes, I'm definitely going to kill her," I remarked when I read of her plans to brainwash me into being a Friend of Sunshine. "And then I will kill Kyle for not telling me Laurie makes the Smurfs look depressed." I really hated having to kill him, but I had no other choice. He knew I was very allergic to perky, or he should've. Of course, he was a man so maybe I was expecting too much for him to have actually listened when I told him about how much I really loathed the career counselor I'd had to visit at Michigan State one semester and the plans I had for silencing her which involved the use of various controlled substances, three rolls of gauze, and a container of tongue depressors. There was, of course, only one way to find out if I needed to take out my rusty spoon collection again.


	3. Chapter 3

"You didn't tell me I'm going to be living with Little Mary Sunshine," I said when he answered the phone

"You didn't tell me I'm going to be living with Little Mary Sunshine," I said when he answered the phone. "She emailed me and I just about went into diabetic shock from the sweetness and light and excessive perkiness. She says she's sure we'll be very good friends in no time! I'm going to lose it and end up doing something to her I will regret later, I know it, and it will be all your fault."

"I'm doing fine, thanks, and how are you?" Typical Kyle, ignoring my distress.

"Wondering if I should use a dull, rusty spoon to carve your heart out for getting me into this situation. Why didn't you tell me Laurie makes a Smurf look suicidal?"

"Because she doesn't, so put the spoons away. She's excited. Most of the time she's pretty mellow. Do you really think I'd inflict you on the chronically perky?"

"What do you mean, inflict _me_ on the chronically perky? _I'm_ the one who's worried I may end up doing horrible things that will land me in prison and you're mocking me."

He laughed. "You're the one talking about murdering someone, Olivia."

"Justifiable homicide," I countered. "Any jury would totally understand I had no other choice."

"Laurie doesn't generally make Smurfs look suicidal, so you can relax. Her last roomie was…on a schedule that made life difficult for her so she's beyond thrilled she'll be living with someone who won't be on the balcony, naked, at two in the morning, singing 'La Vida Loca' at the top of their lungs and understands you eat on tables, not dance on them."

I dropped the handset onto the futon next to me so I wasn't laughing in Kyle's ear. Those were some very amusing mental pictures. Poor Laurie!

When I stopped laughing, I wiped the tears from my eyes as I picked the phone up. "She should've taken pictures and threatened to post them online."

"It didn't work."

"Oh, dear. I can see why Laurie's glad to be getting a different roomie. I'd be excited, too. Not as excited as her, but not everyone can be as perfect as I am."

"Tell your shrink to up your dose. You're delusional again."

"You're just jealous you're not as fabulous as I am." Kyle was one of the few people I could insult with impunity because he was one of the few people who knew better than to take much of what I said seriously—or, more accurately, knew when I was being serious and when I was jerking his chain and trying to wind him up. He wasn't shy about returning the favor and had become very good at pushing my buttons.

"You found me out. I've always had a secret desire to be a woman and work with animals."

"That would explain why my clothes go missing whenever you're around. I want my blue sundress back the next time I see you."

"Never! It's my favorite. It goes so well with my eyes." He affected a lisp, making me laugh.

"Get your own! Tell me more about Laurie. She says she's in _Spamalot_."

Laurie was, thank God, as levelheaded as Kyle promised. A bit flaky, but notes taped all over to remind her of important things, like making sure she had her keys before she left the apartment, kept the 'blonde moments' to a minimum. She also fell in love with Captain Jack and Zadie, my cats, and was thrilled beyond belief when Jack decided to sleep by her pillow and asphyxiate her with his icky cat breath at night. I was still the one he and Zadie woke up for breakfast at five a.m., though. The choice of human slave remained the same.

Thanks to Kyle's connections and a phone call from Rochester IATSE local to Local 1 in the City, I was hired on to work flies for _November_, a play starring Nathan Lane, almost immediately and told I'd start the following Monday (which, coincidentally, happened to be in November). I didn't have a mobile yet, so I decided to go to Kyle's to tell him the good news in person. For some reason, it didn't occur to me to call him from home. Maybe a subconscious desire to see him in his boxers (helping to fold laundry reveals many things). Whatever the reason, his apartment was my next stop.

Along the way, I picked up a tall black coffee from Starbucks for him and a dozen plain donuts from The Funky Chicken. The donuts (fried, not baked) were one of his guilty pleasures, not that he'd ever admit to it. I'd found out a while back when I was at his place and saw an empty grease-stained box with donut crumbs in it. I'd been in the City a week at that point and hadn't seen a donut box on the counter the other times I'd come by earlier in the week, so I knew he'd been hiding them. Always glad to exploit the weaknesses of friends when the opportunity arose, I'd filed the information away for the next time I was in the City.

It wasn't long after I rang his bell that I heard, "Who is it?"

"Room service!" I chirped brightly, and was answered by the sound of locks being opened.

"You don't need to thank me," I said as I carried everything into his small kitchen, "it was my pleasure. Thanks to you pulling strings for me, I start working flies for _November_ on Monday. Now, if only you could pull strings to get yourself an apartment that's worth what you pay for this shoebox each month."

"I'm not moving, Olivia. Not even coffee and donuts—which you know I don't eat—are going to change my mind." Kyle, fully dressed, leaned against the fridge, arms crossed over his chest.

"I told you why I brought the coffee and donuts—which I know you _do_ eat—and it wasn't to try and change your mind about moving." I'd stopped expecting him to move years ago, but by then it was a comfortable habit so I told him he should move and he continued to refuse.

"I do not eat donuts. You know they're loaded with trans fats and all sorts of other kinds of unhealthiness. Thanks for the coffee, though. I'll definitely drink that."

"Caffeine is also unhealthy but you put that into your body. You can tell me all you want that you don't eat The Funky Chicken's ever-so-unhealthy donuts, but I know better. I've seen the empty, grease-stained boxes in your trash." I grinned. "Your secret is safe with me, I promise. I haven't told anyone."

He gave me a dirty look as he opened the box of donuts and took one. "If you do, I'll tell everyone you love Britney Spears—and I have one of your mix CDs to prove it."

"I never thought you'd stoop to blackmail. I think that's one of the signs of addiction, that you'll go to great lengths to keep it a secret. The CD you have is several years old, though. All it shows is two of Britney's songs _used to be_ a guilty pleasure. Everyone has one." I took a donut for myself. "So what if you like these pastries of fatty death? You eat well and exercise and, trust me, you definitely don't need to worry about ruining your girlish figure. You look as good now as you did ten years ago, when you were doing _Joseph_." If I'd told him exactly what I thought, I'd have told him he was sex on legs and gorgeous enough to likely make a nun contemplate a quickie, but now wasn't the time for that. "At least you don't smoke." I took a bite of the donut and savored the greasy wonderfulness.

"Very true." He dunked what was left of his donut in his coffee. "So you're working flies. Congratulations."

I inclined my head toward him in acknowledgement. "Thank you. If only it had been this easy to find work up in Rochester."

"You'd rather be in Rochester than here?"

"Well, the rent is lower—" I grinned when he gave me a dirty look "—but there's more snow and less culture. In short, nothing worth staying for. I'm not sorry to have left. Most of my friends are down here, so now I can actually have a social life, and I just got a job that'll hopefully pay me enough so I can afford one."

"It's union work. You'll definitely make enough to pay for a social life. What are you doing tonight?"

I thought for a moment. "Nothing; why?" I said, trying not to look as excited as I suddenly felt. I hated myself sometimes for how, whenever I was with him, the littlest things could make me feel as if I were walking on air or want to crawl into bed, pull the blankets over me, and never come out. Eighteen months, I'd been in love with him and for eighteen months, I'd had to keep telling myself things could change, he could change, he could fall in love with me, too, and then I wouldn't have to bite my tongue and fight my desires. I'd told him in June that nothing had changed, I still wanted to be more than friends, and he'd told me he was sorry but I was a friend. A good friend, but still a friend. Sorry, indeed. Sometimes I wondered if this wasn't some kind of sick, twisted payback for when he'd been in love with me years ago and I'd broken his heart the same way he kept breaking mine. Unlike him, I hadn't walked away. Knowing something was better than nothing; I took what he was willing to give and made the most of it.

I'd have given almost anything to kill the love and longing so I could get on with my life, but it refused to be stamped out and I hated myself for it. I hated that I couldn't stop caring for someone who wasn't interested and couldn't start caring for the men that were. I wanted to accept Adam DeWitt, Greg Sampson, Bob Thornton, or any of the others who, when I was in the City, asked if I wanted to go to a movie/get coffee/go to MoMA sometime; to get involved with someone so I would have someone else to think about besides Kyle, but I knew it wouldn't be fair to them, so I reluctantly declined.

The sound of Kyle's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

"You want to go to Earthtones tonight, after I'm done with the show?"

I grinned. "Love to. Anyone else coming?" I added as an afterthought. In a few weeks I wouldn't care, but right now, I just wanted to spend time with him.

"If you want to, see who'd be interested in going. I haven't had a chance to see Joan looking green in a while. The usual Efelba's sick so Joan gets to command the flying monkeys tonight."

"What, and have her be harassed by you about houses landing on her sister and how she needs to find a better foundation? Just because you're jealous she's in _Wicked_ and you're not is no reason to give her a hard time."

"Guilty as charged." He smirked at me over the rim of his cup and then drained the last of the coffee. "I'm jealous Joan's an understudy and I only have a measly leading role in _The Producers_. Catch." He tossed the empty cup to me. "You're closer to the trash than I am."

"Right." I dropped it in the container to my left. "Got anything I can use to wipe the coffee you showered me with off with? _Other_ than the washcloth by the sink of dubious cleanliness. I'm not in the mood to contract any bizarre diseases today."

He raised an eyebrow. "And I should tell you after you insult me like that…why?"

"Because I'll use your shirt if you don't. Oh! I still have that sweatshirt you loaned me in June. I'll bring it with me tonight."

"Keep it. You can use it to wipe your face off with." He laughed when I shot him a dirty look. "Or you can use toilet paper to wipe your face and keep the sweatshirt anyway. I have others."

"I like my idea better." Smiling broadly, I calmly walked toward him, turning aside at the last moment and going into the bathroom. The sound of his laughter made me grin and my mood was high the rest of the day.

At two a.m. the baristas kicked everyone out of Earthtones. Neither Kyle nor I were tired yet so I suggested coming back to my place.

"Laurie has an amazing DVD collection," I told him as we walked to the subway, "so I know there's something we can both agree on. _Pride and Prejudice_, maybe?" I bit the tip of my tongue to keep from laughing and giving myself away. Like all 'manly men', he had a pathological aversion to chick flicks I exploited every now and again for my own sick pleasure.

"We'll see what she has," Kyle said after a long moment.

I poked him with my elbow. "Is that a polite way of saying 'Over my dead body'?"

"I didn't say that." He poked my side.

"You didn't have to. You can't stand anything with a high estrogen content." I poked him harder. This was war!

"I spend time with you, don't I?" Poke.

"So you don't have a problem with watching chick flicks. _Pride and Prejudice_ it is, then, and you poke too hard."

"You started it, and I'd rather see what she has before deciding on a movie." He lightly poked my shoulder. "Better?"

"Slightly. I'll still have a bruise there in the morning."

In the glow of a streetlight, I saw him roll his eyes and I leaned against him, laughing.

"Should I kiss it and make it better?" he teased, putting an arm around my shoulders.

My mind went on overload about then. Kiss it and make it better? Heck yes! It wouldn't be my shoulder he'd be kissing, though. I took a slow, deep breath to try and clear my head a bit and to get control over the intense desire to grab him and kiss him then and there. I didn't want to risk ruining what had been a great evening.

"Promises, promises. It's not nice to lead a girl on."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"No, I'm calling you a tease, making promises you might not keep." I forced a humor I didn't feel, biting back the urge to protest when he dropped his arm as we started to cross the street.

"You wound me!"

"Should I kiss it and make it better?" I looked up at him, eyebrow raised and smirking slightly. Inside, I was a total mess; amazed I'd been so bold and scared I might have gone too far. I should've just left it alone. Why did I have to be so stupid and open my big mouth and risk totally ruining the evening for myself? If he wanted to kiss me, he would. He was a grown man, not a nervous high school boy who needed a push.

"It's not nice to lead a man on." He gave me a knowing look.

I stumbled a bit when the last few functional brain cells I had left melted and died, and he caught my arm. 'Never need to worry about that,' I thought distractedly, trying not to stare too much at his lips. 'Definitely keep my word for you.' He was making it very, very hard to behave myself.

"What makes you think I'd do that?" I managed to say.

"It wouldn't be the first time."

Icy realization flooded over me, and the mental fog was gone instantly, replaced with an intense fury.

"You son of a bitch," I spat, slapping his hand off my arm and backing away several steps. "I can't—you didn't—What the hell is this? I can't believe you'd try to rub my nose in what happened in Toronto."

"What are you talking about?" He looked genuinely confused, but he hadn't gotten where he was by being a lousy actor. "Olivia, calm down. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. That was seven years ago and I got over it. You know I'm not that petty."

"'It wouldn't be the first time'." I parroted his words back mocking. "What was I supposed to think?" Dimly, I was aware people were staring but I didn't care. "What other times, pray tell, am I supposed to have led you on?"

"Olivia, it was a mistake. I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

I glared at him stonily. "You're sorry. Do you remember what you said after I told you I was sorry? You said 'So am I' and hung up," I continued, blinking away tears, not waiting for an answer. "I died that day. You aren't the only one who went through hell."

He stepped forward and grasped my shoulders. "Olivia, I'm _sorry_. I didn't mean anything by it. I wasn't thinking." When I didn't say anything, he continued, "Why would I wait seven years? Have I ever been that petty?"

"No," I admitted, studying his face to see if I could find any sign he wasn't sincere. I wanted to believe him, but I'd gotten burned badly by my now-former best friend in 2004 when she dragged up grievances several years old as the main proof I was behind a prank someone pulled on her.

"I'm not Elisa. Don't hold what she did against me."

I cracked a smile. "You were reading my mind, weren't you?" He was right. Unlike Elisa, Kyle wasn't a passive-aggressive, lying twit. He had a problem, he told you. He wouldn't have waited this long to bring up what happened if it was still bothering him.

"Lucky guess."

"Likely story. That would explain why you used to be so good with the ladies."

"_Used_ to be?" He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not anymore?"

I shrugged. "How would I know? I haven't been around much, but from what I hear, you've lost your touch." I shook my head sadly and sighed. "Let's go. You need to watch some Jane Austin films to remind you how to be charming."

"I take it that means you believe me and are sorry for going off on me." His tone was light but his smile didn't entirely reach his eyes.

"You would be correct." I nodded in the direction of the subway station. "No girly movies, I promise."

On Halloween, wearing my Ren Faire costume,I met up with my friends Dar and Gretchen for a mid-afternoon costume party in SoHo. Almost everyone there worked on Broadway and it was rather amusing to see people, for the most part, drinking soda and water instead of beer, wine, and mixed drinks.

"What is this, an AA meeting?" I joked to Dar. "I can see the headline now: Broadway Full of Drunks. Equity and IATSE begin joint sobriety effort and order all members to attend AA. To assist the actors and stagehands on their road to recovery, both unions held a huge AA meeting today in SoHo."

"We are not amused," she intoned dryly. "Equity members like keeping their jobs, which means being sober at curtain up. Don't know about the crew, though." Her smirk belied her words, a silent challenge. She knew I'd worked with the IATSE local when I lived in Rochester and enjoyed razzing me about it.

"We are not amused, either." I stuck my tongue out at her. "IATSE members like keeping their jobs, too, and we have to work a heck of a lot harder than you poncy Equity twits. All you do is put on cute little costumes and nance around a bit, barely breaking a sweat. The crew busts their butts hauling backdrops and set pieces in and out and we wear ourselves out." I smiled sweetly. "Being drunk might be an improvement for some of you." I started laughing loudly, ducking as she tried to swat the back of my head.

When I woke up on Tuesday morning, I felt like someone had beaten the crap out of me from the waist up. Even small movements of my arms and shoulders made me wince. I'd known working flies would leave me in a world of pain, but knowing didn't make it hurt any less.

"Hot shower," I muttered under my breath as I slowly pushed back the covers and sat up. "And aspirin with codeine. Opioids are my friend." I nodded. Definitely aspirin with codeine. God bless Canada for selling it over the counter. The only thing for it was a hot shower, a good massage, and to stretch before I went to work. I looked forward to when I wouldn't ache most of the time.

As the days became cooler, I took to wearing Kyle's Oberlin sweatshirt more often, which didn't go unnoticed.

"Anything the rest of us should know?" Dar asked one evening when we went for drinks after work.

"About what?"

"What do you think? You and Kyle."

I gave a short laugh. "I wish! Why?"

"Other than the usual? That's his—" she gestured at the sweatshirt, tied around my waist "—and you're always wearing it. I'm not the only one who's noticed." Dar was in _The Producers_ with Kyle, so I'd gotten to know everyone there pretty well.

"I sincerely hate to disappoint you, dear, but there's nothing juicy to report. He gave it to me a while ago, and I wear it a lot now because it's mad warm and comfortable. End of story. It's as one-sided as ever." I signaled the bartender for another rum and Coke. "You have my solemn promise that if anything changes, you can have the honor of being the first in the cast to find out."

Dar leaned toward me. "Olivia, dear, do I have a guide dog with me?"

"No."

"Then stop treating me like I'm blind. If those are your only reasons for wearing _his_ sweatshirt, I'll renounce being a lesbian and go find a man to marry. So, what's _really_ going on?"

"Not knowing every little detail isn't going to kill you, you know," I groused, cheeks flaming. "You're such a pain sometimes."

"I try." She smiled proudly.

"And succeed wonderfully. What's actually going on is he gave it to me a while ago and I wear it a lot now because it's mad warm, comfortable, and itsmellslikehim. There, that's the _entire_ story. I'm holding you to half your promise. You pick the half."

"Fine. I'll renounce being a lesbian—for five minutes."

"You—" I closed my mouth, realizing she'd never said how long she'd renounce being a lesbian for. "A pox on you and your bloody loopholes." I stuck out my tongue at her.

"Is that an invitation?" She laughed when I gave her a dirty look. "A word of advice: you know how dense men are, so stop waiting for Kyle to somehow pick up on the fact you want him. Tell him, then kiss him." She paused for a moment. "Actually, just kiss him. No reason to waste time getting to the fun part."

"Been there, done that, only without the kissing." I pulled a face. "I told him in June. And without being totally drunk this time! What happened in Toronto. I told you about that," I explained when Dar gave me a 'Huh?' look. "I told him and he said all the usual stuff about how I was pretty and great and blahblahblah and how he was sorry but I'm just a friend and all that not-so-jolly rot."

Dar patted my shoulder. "That was June. This is November. Things can change, and a man doesn't give his laundry to a woman unless he wants her to stick around long enough to wash, dry, and fold it for him."

I laughed. "So a full hamper would be a marriage proposal?"

"Quite likely." She winked at me. "I'll make sure he gives you a ring, though."

"You're getting a little ahead of things, Dar." I took a long swallow of my rum and Coke. "The only ring I want from him right now is a call on the phone to tell me he's changed his mind and would I mind coming over to snog madly later. You can bend his mind toward engagement rings later." I rolled my eyes and smiled as I drank, wondering what tactics Dar would employ now in her campaign to get Kyle to declare his undying love to me.

"What are you and your girlfriend doing for Thanksgiving?" I asked Dar, changing the subject.

"Sleeping late, watching Macy's parade on TV, going to her parents' for dinner. You?"

"Going home. Sleep through the Macy's parade, dinner with my mom's parents, visiting my surrogate parents and having them pump me about Brian to see if there's anything he's not telling them—like if Felicity's pregnant or they're getting divorced and Brian and I are going to run off and elope and then his parents' dream that he and I would marry will finally come true." Dar had a blank expression. "Brian, my friend, the one who was in _Joseph_ with Kyle. The one with the wife who's too perfect to believe?"

"Oh, him!" Dar nodded. "You never told me you two were friends way back. His parents wanted you two to get married?"

I chuckled. "More like thought it was a given. We were thick as thieves when he was in high school and I was over there so much his parents unofficially adopted me—with my parents' full knowledge—and I got along well enough with his younger sister they let me continue to raid the fridge and watch stuff on cable because I didn't have cable at home. Bri and I were so close they figured we'd end up together. Surprise!" I smiled wryly. "Seriously, they love Felicity and look forward to lots of grandchildren and harbor no hopes of me someday being a daughter-in-law. They, unlike some—" The Pattersons came to mind "—respect the sanctity of marriage and wouldn't ever manipulate people and take advantage of weaknesses in relationships to get their son together with someone he's known since childhood."

"I sense some anger. Who are the homewreckers? Your parents?"

"No, no, definitely not my parents." I shook my head. "My dad thinks it's too bad Felicity's black and that Bri made a mistake not marrying me, but that's as far as it goes. No, the idiots are distant, distant Canadian cousins on my mom's side who insist on inflicting themselves on us each summer in the name of visiting family. Or something like that." I gave her a nutshell version of the whole Lizthony debacle. "My parents think the whole thing is wrong on many levels and Bri's parents…well, his mom told me if she ever heard her son was looking at me and I wasn't telling him to go home to his wife, she'd beat the both of us so bad there wouldn't be enough left intact to identify our bodies. I assured her she'd only need to concern herself with Bri because my parents would want to beat me down themselves."

Dar grinned and gave a thumbs up.

"His mom sounds like my kind of woman," she said. "In the friendly sense."

"I hope so. I know Bri's dad would have a few things to say about another woman trying to steal his wife."

"If she were few decades younger and single…who knows?" Dar shrugged. "I'm surprised you aren't packing Kyle in your suitcase to take him home to Mommy and Daddy for approval."

I smiled sanguinely. "Oh, but I am. Or Bri is. Or something." I thought for a moment, and then shook my head slightly. "Whatever. He's coming back to Rochester with me, Bri, and Felicity and he's staying at Bri's. I suspect he'll do Thanksgiving with Bri's family because they do the whole college bowl thing and mine doesn't and come harass me and my parents later. As for getting Mommy and Daddy's approval, he underwent parental scrutiny years ago, when I was visiting him in Toronto every month, and passed—and that was _before_ he cleaned up his act. "

Dar's eyebrows shot up. "I can't believe they let you out alone with him. I can't believe _you_ went out alone with him."

Laughing, I nodded. "Are you really surprised he was able to charm my parents? You know how he is, and I wasn't exactly going to tell my parents 'Hey, Mom, and Dad? The guy I go out of town with once a month? Usually, he'll screw anything female but he's never tried anything with me, at least not recently, so don't worry. I'll be fine. See you in three days!'"

"You're right. God does look out for fools and children, and you were at the top of His list. I thought you were jerking my chain, telling me you spent weekends in Toronto with him."

"I wasn't staying with him. I crashed on someone else's sofa. He was, believe it or not, a perfect gentleman."

"If it was anyone else telling me that, I'd be laughing my ass off and telling them to stop bullshitting me."

"He was probably afraid I'd try to castrate him if he didn't behave himself." I smiled mischievously. "I mentioned once that I'd castrated a piglet when I was in school and was amazed at how easy it was; that all you needed was a table and a knife. For some reason, it stuck with him."

Dar pointed at me with the straw from her drink. "You definitely are not a good little Christian girl, Olivia Masters. You're sick and twisted."

I bowed slightly. "Thank you. That's one of the nicest compliments I've ever received. You'd be surprised just how not sweet and good most Christian girls are. Appearances can be very deceiving."

"And you are proof." She raised her glass in salute.


	4. Chapter 4

Like I'd told Dar, Kyle had passed the test of parental scrutiny, convincing them he was the epitome of a perfect gentleman whose mama had raised him right.

"Your friend, Kyle, seems like a very nice young man," my mom had said to me in early 2001. "You met him when he was in a show with Brian in 1998, right? _Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat_, wasn't it?"

I nodded. "I met him when the cast got together before they left on tour." I focused on peeling carrots to cut up for the beef stew my mom was making, trying not to laugh. Oh, yes, we'd met. If my parents knew even a small amount of what had gone on that evening, my father would've banned Kyle from ever setting foot on the property ever again and he'd have kept at me to get a restraining order. My parents had a PG-rated idea of what happened that night: the cast getting together at the Dew Drop Inn for one last hoorah with loved ones before hitting the road, having a good time over a few drinks and dancing. Kyle, the nice young man, was his ever-charming self and treated all the ladies with respect and was someone Brian got on well with. That was exactly what I wanted them to think. Their ignorance was my bliss.

We met in May 1998. I was nineteen, naïve, and rather clueless when it came to guys. Bri had driven up to Delhi, where I was going to college, and taken me back to the City so I, along with his fiancée, Felicity, could see him off three days hence, on Sunday. That night was the cast get-together at the Dew Drop Inn in Jersey.

Bri, Felicity, and I had just ordered drinks and both of them had headed to the bathrooms, leaving me alone at the bar. Like all good predators, Kyle waited until his prey was alone and vulnerable to move in for the kill.

"Have we met before?" were his first words to me. I, like the majority of nineteen-year-old girls, took one look at the drop dead gorgeous man next to me and my mind became a puddle of gray mush. That I went largely unnoticed by the boys at Delhi made it even more brain-melting a guy who could've been talking to any woman he wanted to was talking to me. For reasons best summed up as 'low self-esteem and horrible self-image', it didn't even occur to me he was trying to pick me up until Bri came back from the bathroom. Backtracking a bit, Bri had warned me when he told me about this weekend that there was a guy named Kyle who liked to hit on and try to score with anything that had a vagina (my words, not his). I'd been convinced that Kyle guy would leave me alone until Bri came back from the bathroom and said:

"I'm surprised you've forgotten what part I play, Kyle. I see you met my friend, Olivia."

I was, to put it mildly, mortified for having been so foolish and not seeing what was going on. I should've figured it out when Kyle 'mistakenly' thought I was the woman who played Ruben's wife (who turned out to be a tall blonde). Ah, well, live and learn. Brian had made it clear to Kyle to steer clear of me and I thought now that Kyle knew whom I was, he'd do exactly that. Have I mentioned yet how naïve and clueless I was at nineteen?

When I'd gathered together and dusted off enough of my bruised pride to dare showing my face in public again, I emerged from the bathroom, cheeks still a bit red, and set about making polite small talk with Brian's castmates.

One of the first people I talked to was Heather (the tall blonde who played Ruben's wife).

"You do surgery?" Heather, whom I'd been told played Ruben's wife, asked.

"Not legally." I studied the tall blonde, and wondered how long Kyle thought he could have gotten away with his little scam. "Though there is one guy here tonight I'd love to slice into." Oh, did I say that out loud?

She followed my eyes and laughed. "Wouldn't we all?"

Knowing I wasn't the only one who disliked him made me feel better.

"Where do you know Brian from?" Heather asked.

"We went to school together. We met in community theatre six years ago."

"What show?"

"Sound of Music. I was having trouble with the dancing, and he offered to help. Failed miserably," I said dryly. "Oh, hello, Kyle."

The Smooth Operator had oozed up, smiling like a used car salesman. "Enjoying yourself?" he asked me.

"Yes." Now go away and leave me alone.

He moved closer. "You doing anything later?"

I tried not to gape at him. Did cockiness kill brain cells? Must be. "Going home."

"I can give you a ride."

"Already have one."

"You sure? A bunch of us are going out afterwards to a club, and—"

Heather spoke up. "Go away, Harling. She's not interested."

"I think she can speak for herself." He turned back to me. "Like I was saying, a bunch of us are going to a club later, and I could take you home when we leave."

"No, thanks. I'm not 21; they wouldn't let me in."

"Not to worry. I know the bouncer."

"I don't drink."

"Not a problem."

"I'd rather just go back with Brian."

"You sure? It's going to be a—"

Heather interrupted him again. "Are you still using that line? I suppose you already confused her with a member of the cast. Which one of us was it, Kyle? Rayenne?" She pointed to a curvy brunette at the bar. "Or Georgia?" She nodded at the redhead by the jukebox.

I got into the game. "Actually, he said I looked like Ruben's wife." Somehow, I managed to keep a straight face.

Heather's reaction was priceless. Her jaw kind of dropped for a moment, and then she uttered a short but potent adjective. "Harling, you're an egotistical prick. Your mother should have done the world a favor, and told the doctor to take a little extra."

He ignored her. "Let me know if you want to go out later, Olivia."

"Not with you." I turned my back to him. "So, Heather, how long have you been in theatre?"

Kyle took the message, and oozed off to find another source of fresh meat.

I rolled my eyes. "Is he always like that?"

"Unfortunately."

A little while later, several trays of appetizers arrived at the tables the cast had staked out and we all descended up on the hot, greasy food like wolves going after a kill (only without the blood and we weren't quite as messy about it). I met Georgia, who got in Kyle's face when he insulted her under his breath, and was only too happy to tell her anecdotes about Brian guaranteed to make him blush deep red and vow to throttle me when next we met. Everyone seemed to think he was a shining pillar of virtue and I could not, in good conscience, let them go on thinking that. Beneath the sunny smile and engaging disposition was the mind of someone cold-blooded enough to prank call his friends' room on a marching band trip at three in the morning and make her and her roommates think they'd missed the wake-up call and everyone was on the busses, waiting for them, to go to the competition site, and as if that was not evil enough, he took glee in showing up at his friends' room and, when she opened the door, taking a picture of the chaos and disorder his prank had caused.

That, of course, left the friend and her roomies no choice but to seek vengeance upon him and gained their satisfaction one evening on the bus when the cruel prankster was sleeping. Brian's biggest mistake was angering two members of the Colorguard, who had been rooming with his friend. Like killer bees, when one is angered the rest quickly flock to its aid and they attack as one. Also like killer bees, the Colorguard pursues with an energy and determination that puts other females and their girlz to shame. Why Brian had not yet learned to fear the Guard can only be guessed at, but whatever the reason for his stupidity the Guard set out to prove hell hath no fury like fifteen young women scorned (or woken up at three in the morning and made to panic and having their haste to dress photographed).

The Guard bided its time and waited for the right moment, which arrived when Brian the Foolish was found to be sleeping quite soundly. In anticipation of just such an opportunity, the Guard had boarded the bus prepared to exact revenge, so they were able to quickly and stealthily spring quietly into action and, in very short order, a large supply of makeup was given to the victims of Brian's prank so they could give the Foolish One a makeover he would never forget. Of course, it was photographed.

"I can vouch for the fact he makes a fabulous woman," I assured Georgia and the others who'd leaned toward us to listen. "I'll see about getting a copy of the photo scanned to disk and I'll email it to anyone who's interested." Not surprisingly, that was nearly everyone and I mentally kicked myself for opening my big mouth. Sending that many emails with attachments would take an obscene amount of time with my dialup connection, so I changed my plan and decided to send it to Georgia and four others and they'd share Bri's Makeover from Hell with everyone else.

Once massive amounts of refined carbs and trans-fats had been consumed, some migrated to the dance floor, others migrated to the bar, and a very few, like myself, chose to stay put. I would've loved to have been dancing, but Bri was with Felicity and none of the guys in the cast had looked at me twice before going their own way. I was very used to being ignored so I took a drink from my Coke and began brainstorming what I should write next.

Most predators, when prey has escaped them, stop chasing and focus on finding an easier-to-catch meal. Humans, unfortunately, seem to have largely lost the ability to recognize a lost cause and the especially cocky ones cannot comprehend the existence of such a thing.

I was in the middle of contemplating an absolutely brilliant idea when Kyle broke my concentration with, "Want to dance?"

"No." I stood up. "If you'll excuse me." I headed over to the first unclaimed guy I could find and, loud enough for Kyle to hear, asked him if he wanted to dance. Thankfully, he accepted.

You'd think that would get the message across. Alas, it did not and Kyle has never explained why he'd been so dense. Whatever was going on in his arrogant little mind, the next time he saw me alone, once again brainstorming story ideas, he insisted on speaking to me.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I startled at the sound and looked in the direction of the voice. It was Kyle, coming from the direction of the bathrooms. He stopped in front of me.

"It's more like five cents with inflation," I said dryly. Did that man never go away?

"You have a sense of humor. I like that." He laughed, sat down next to me, and let his arm rest on the back of the booth close enough to my shoulders that I felt him running his fingers over my shirt. It was everything I could do not to kick him in the shins.

"I want to be alone," I said coldly.

"Alone?" He looked genuinely baffled by the concept.

"Yes. Alone. As in by myself." The urge to kick in his shins grew.

"Oh, come on." He gave me an incredulous look and ran a finger across the back of my neck, sending shudders down my spine. "Sure you don't want to dance?"

I stared at him for a moment, wondering how to get this creep off my tail. And then, I knew. "Why not? Just pardon me for a moment."

"Of course." He smiled at me, thinking his evening was made with the Forbidden Catch. I tried not to laugh as I walked towards the DJ. I really hated direct confrontation, but he left me no other choice. Backing the passive-aggressive into a corner is a really bad idea, because if they have to become plain ole aggressive, they'll eviscerate you without a second thought and eat your heart for a snack (or maybe that was just me).

In between songs, I signaled to the DJ. "Do you have _Kiss The Girl_ by Little Texas?"

She thought for a moment. "I'll check." A moment later, she was back. "We have it. You want it?"

"Yes. When?"

"Two songs?"

I smiled. "Excellent." I returned to the table. I walked back to the bar. "The band said it would be two songs," I said nonchalantly, trying not to grin.

"That long?" Kyle feigned being upset.

"Yeah. Sorry. I'll meet you out there? I want to go see what time Bri's leaving."

"You sit down at all?" he asked lightly.

"Only for food," I shot back. "I promise to be there for the dance."

When I told Brian what I was planning, he went all Big Brother on me.

"I'm going to embarrass Kyle," I told him under my breath as I leaned against the wall. "In front of the ladies of the cast. He's hit on me all night, tried cop a feel, and refused to back off. I'm going to take care of it," I said quickly when I saw the expression on his face. "Don't beat him down. It's not worth it. I'll never see him again."

"He needs a lesson."

"It's not your fight," I reminded him. "If he doesn't get a clue, then you can handle him." Bri nodded grudgingly. "What time are we leaving?"

"In about an hour."

"Sounds good. I must get back to Kyle so he doesn't think something's up."

He smiled dryly. "And we can't have him missing you, can we?"

Walking back to the table, I saw several of the ladies from the cast so I made a detour to tell them what I was planning.

"Can we watch?" Heather asked. "Please?"

"Of course. Two songs. It's fast, so I don't have to suffer his hands."

Georgia laughed. "So you think."

I paused and smiled. "Oh, I think he'll be suffering more than me when I get done with him."

Georgia laughed. "You plan to take credit for this?"

"Of course. Just be there to watch."

Everyone grinned. "With bells on," Heather said, sounding smug.

My absence must've made Kyle's heart (among other things) grow much fonder because I had trouble keeping his hands off me. That he was practically drooling to get me into bed was obvious and it was all I could do not to slap him. Thank God our song was next.

"We're up," I said glibly. "Ready to go?"

"Of course." He smiled at me in a way that made my skin crawl and put an arm over my shoulder. I reminded myself this would soon be over. Very soon.

And the humiliation began. I was gratified to see everyone I'd invited to the show had come. I forced myself not to shudder when Kyle let his hands settle on my bum and pulled me much too close.

"My offer to go out later is still open," he said.

"I'll think about it." Okay, I thought about it. Still 'no'. "I've never met anyone like you before."

"All you've known is boys." I murmured something non-committal. "They don't know how to treat a woman right."

"So true."

"Come out with me later. Brian says you've never been to the City before. I'll show you around, give you a taste of what life here is like."

"And show me how a woman should be treated." I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. Hey, if he thought I was a stupid rube, far be it from me to shatter the illusion just yet.

"Of course." He moved one hand off my bum and placed it under my chin. Tipping my head up so I was looking at him, he said, "You have gorgeous eyes."

The next thing I was aware of, he was kissing me. For a long moment, I lost the ability to think clearly. Good gravy, he was a good kisser. 'Pity he's such an ass', I thought when my mind cleared.

I pulled away. "There's something you need to know," I said softly.

"What?" he asked indulgently.

"You're an ass," I hissed as I moved back a step and slapped him. Hard. "You've been trying to cop a feel all night, you refuse to leave me alone, and you think that because I'm young, I don't know what a real man is. I do, and you don't fit the description." I walked away quickly, head held high, as he staggered off to the side of the dance floor, hand over his now livid red cheek. That time, he got the message.

Two days later, Felicity and I went with Bri to see him off. As close as Bri and I were, the fiancée always takes precedent over a friend, so while he and Felicity kissed and said how much they'd miss each other before kissing some more I waited nearby.

Either extreme stupidity or a burning desire to irritate the hell out of me motivated Kyle to ooze over and say, "Want some company?"

"Not yours." The distain in my voice was only exceeded by the distain I regarded him with.

"Hey, relax!" He held his hands up as if to say 'I surrender'. "I'm just trying to be nice."

"Just like the other night, I'm sure."

"Looks to me like your friend's forgotten you're here." He nodded slightly towards Bri and Felicity.

Under normal conditions, I would have walked away, but my mood was already raw and heinous and Kyle's obnoxious dig didn't improve it.

"Kiss my ass," I snapped. "If you were the last man on earth, I'd gladly die single and childless." I gave him one last withering glare and stalked away, leaving Kyle slightly gape-mouthed and staring after me.

Having found I was exceptionally easy to irritate and get a reaction from, he chose to inflict himself upon me again when everyone was boarding the bus.

"Are you coming to see the show?" Kyle suddenly appeared in front of me, smiling like a game show host.

I rolled my eyes. "Leave me alone. Go bother someone who wants your company," I snapped, gesturing with my head to a dark-haired woman standing nearby he'd been hugging a few minutes ago.

He glanced at the woman. "Jill? She's just a fan."

"Of what, the way you kiss?" I shot back.

"Among other things." He laughed at the expression on my face. "You're cute when you're mad."

"And you're way too old for me." I shifted to my right to try and see Bri, but Kyle shifted with me, blocking my view.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Wouldn't miss it." I shifted to my left.

Kyle got back in my way. "Good. I'll look forward to seeing you."

"Don't you need to get on the bus?"

"I will. I have time. What's your email address?"

"Is that like asking for my number?" I asked dryly.

"Guilty as charged."

"It's in the header of any message I send."

His smile faded a bit. "Is that like 'It's in the phone book'?"

"Guilty as charged." I smiled broadly and pushed past him so I could get one last rib-crushing hug from Bri before he boarded the bus and left me for two years.

After the bus pulled out in a cloud of exhaust fumes, I went back to Bri's, grabbed my stuff, and Felicity and I headed to the garage where Bri kept his decrepit car, the Blue Bomber, so she could drive me back to Delhi. Several years ago, he'd promised his parents and me he'd get rid of it by September. Foolishly, we thought he meant September of that year. The only things that held it together, I was sure, were Bond-O and prayer.

My parents got a highly edited and sanitized version of events when I called home to let them know I'd survived another week of eating the dining hell swill, and before they could start asking for details about the weekend I moved straight on to telling them about the insanity of studying for finals and how the girl in the room next door to me always played her music too loud in the middle of the day.

My chutzpah and otherwise sweet nature endeared me to more than a few women in the _Joseph_ cast, gaining me a bunch of new friends to email and IM with. I'd stayed friends with most of them and tried to see them when I was in the City, and we never failed to laugh ourselves sick over my very public rejection of the great Kyle Harling at least once. After we became friends and people realized that he truly wasn't trying to get into (and get me out of) my pants, there were jokes that I'd so impressed/intimidated Kyle that night he didn't dare try anything again for fear of being subjected to worse. I'd definitely made an impression (literally and figuratively) and he knew exactly who I was the next time we talked, and while there were a variety of reasons he was never a threat to my virtue after that, fear of being publicly humiliated again wasn't among them.

The summer of '98, camping and a three-week internship at the zoo in Buffalo, NY kept me busy enough the only thespian I thought of was Brian, though occasionally when I was chatting over IM with Bri, the walking ego that was Kyle Harling came to mind. The few times I asked if Kyle had improved at all Bri told me nothing had changed.

In October of '98, weather forecasters announced that pigs had been spotted flying in the jet stream and reports of sudden sub-zero areas in the earth's core started speculation that Hell had frozen over. Norway and the state of Michigan responded they weren't surprised; to them, Hell freezing over was a regular occurrence. At least, that's what the Weekly World News said, but they also said a mink coat had suddenly come alive and attacked the woman wearing it and that Bat Boy was dating Britney Spears, so the reports of airborne swine and Satan opening an ice rick weren't taken very seriously. Perhaps they should have been.

My third semester of school hadn't been going well. I'd moved off campus, which made it more difficult to see my friends now and my classes were not only kicking my butt but using it to wash the floor with as well and studying to try to keep up at least a B average made seeing friends even more difficult. Then there was the problem of Nick.

I was renting a room from a family I went to church with, as were two other SUNY Delhi students, both male. One, Jeff, was a Botany major. The other, Nick, was first year Vet Sci, twelve years older than me, and recently divorced. I was second year Vet Sci. In the interest of being on friendly terms with the other people I'd be sharing a house with that year, I introduced myself to Nick and volunteered to help him with studying and assignments. Nick had a gorgeous Siberian Husky named Alexi who was rarely averse to loving attention, so I found reasons to spend time giving Alexi loving attention.

Most unfortunately, Nick mistook my friendliness to be more-than-friendliness and expressed his more-than-friendly interest in me. I'd learned many lessons from Kyle, but none of them in the area of how to properly communicate with a guy who digs you and remaining friends without sending mixed signals, and when you need to distance yourself. Like Liz, I still had idealistic visions of Prince Charming and noble knights and men actually listening to what you said and letting that be their guide. Needless to say, my ideas clashed horribly with reality and how men really are, and dealing with the issue of Nick, who just would not back off, added to the huge amount of stress I was under academically.

One not-so-fine afternoon, after a particularly not-so-fine day, I saw Brian was logged into AIM when I got online and spilled forth my woes and agonies and frustrations. The response I received startled me exceedingly.

"Tell him if he doesn't back off, you'll have your older brother and his friends come and make him sing soprano. With their bare hands."

Brian was very protective, but outright threats of violence weren't his style.

"Brian, what are you smoking?" Maybe he was as fed up with Nick as I was. I had been wailing about him for six weeks now.

"Brian? Oh, you wanted Brian? This is Kyle."

Embarrassment found new meaning, as did 'extremely irritated'. "Why are you using his screen name?"

"He said I could use his computer."

"That doesn't mean you use his screen name." I remembered this Kyle guy. He was the one who refused to leave me alone. "You had no right to read what I wrote." 'Of all the nerve!' I thought indignantly. Cocky, arrogant, full of himself…the man needed to be put in his place. _Again_. 'You'd think he'd have learned the first time…but obviously not.' That he didn't know he'd just pissed off the same chick that had told him off in May didn't occur to me until later.

"Sorry."

Six weeks of frustration suddenly found an outlet. Like a teen popping a zit, Kyle added the critical amount of pressure needed to make me explode and like a freshly popped whitehead, what came out wasn't pretty but it felt So Good to finally release everything that had been building up inside.

"Bull." Idiot. One more guy who had no stinking clue, who thought it was his prerogative to stick his nose into my life and tell me what to do. "You have guts, getting into Brian's business and thinking you can get into mine." I added a few more choice phrases, none repeatable.

"My apologies. I was only trying to help!"

"Shove off! If I'd wanted to discuss my personal life with a complete stranger, I could have picked any number of morons in a chat room to do that with! I wanted to talk to my best friend, and you have balls reading his messages and pretending to be him. Get a clue. Get a life. Get over yourself."

"What did I ever do to you?"

"You want the list?" I typed. 'Bring it on, asshole,' I thought darkly. He wasn't the reason for my frustrations but using it to take him down a peg or ten would be doing the world a service, so I hoped he'd give me an excuse to let loose on him again.

There was a long pause and then

"Thank you. Kyle's being whipped with a wet noodle right now for abusing my screen name. What's up?"

"Bri?"

"Yes."

"How do I know?"

"You told me Agent 7 looks good in Scooby Doo slippers."

"That she does. Does Kyle always grossly abuse privileges?"

"lol He needs a good smacking around. Whatever you said made him quite irate, and he's muttering evil things about you."

"So we have something in common. And ask me if I care. So can you help?"

"What?"

"Scroll up and read."

Pause. "I agree with Kyle."

"WHAT?"

"I agree. If Nick doesn't back off, we'll come down and maim him with our bare hands."

"You agree with _him_?"

"Olivia, he may have the morals of a rock, but that means he has better insight into how to stop his own kind. Listen to him. Oh, he's leaning over my shoulder and demanding that I take back the part about 'morals of a rock', and he wants to know if you'd like to go out when you come to see the show."

'The man has the balls of a bull elephant,' I boggled. He was worse than Nick! "No, I wouldn't, and I just remembered why being single is so great. He and Nick are at the top of my list." Let him read it.

"Did you sharpen your tongue or something tonight?"

"I've had a very bad day, dealing with Nick earlier didn't make it any better, and him reading your messages, totally unrepentant, didn't lighten my mood."

"He's sorry he did it, he begs your forgiveness, and the next time he talks to you, it'll be with his own screen name."

"And if I don't want to talk to him?" Cocky ass, taking as if there'd _be_ a next time. Hell would freeze over first.

"That's your choice. So, what else can I help you with?"

"Nothing, short of finding a way to remove Nick from Delhi."

"Sorry, that's beyond my powers." Pause. "Just tell him to go take a flying leap." Pause. "Kyle agrees. Says that's the best way to get through to a guy."

I snorted. "It didn't work when I tried it with him! And tell him to stop reading over your shoulder!" The irony of Kyle Harling telling me being blunt would get through to a guy was thick and rich, and I longed to shove it all down his throat until he choked on it.

"I gave him permission to. He says to just do it, and so do I."

"What is he, Nike? He should take his own advice. The women of the world would appreciate it."

"He's demanding to talk to you." Long pause. "What is your problem?"

So Kyle was back. Let the games begin! I smiled a Most Evil Smile and cracked my knuckles. "At the moment? You."

"Why?"

"Your presumption to read Bri's chat window and then answer it, that you'd have the balls to dish out advice you don't take yourself, and that you had to go and make my already horrible mood even worse."

"I sat down at the computer and your message appeared! So sorry if it was right in front of my eyes."

"You could have left it alone and let Bri answer for himself."

"I said I was sorry, and Brian will vouch for me. Oh, forgive me, oh cranky one, for offending you."

"Don't do it again." At the back of my mind, a red flag went off. I needed to chill. It was two against one and the last thing I wanted was to come off looking worse than Kyle Harling.

"I won't."

"Thank you."

"So can I offer advice without getting my head ripped off?"

"I don't recall asking for any, but if you think you can help, go for it." I couldn't quite believe I was listening to an almost-total stranger, and complete jerk to boot, but I was desperate, and if he had Bri's approval, I'd hear him out.

"Tell him you're not interested and that he needs to leave you alone."

"I've tried."

"Bluntly?"

"No, not really."

"The he's not going to get it."

"Okay. I'll try it. But what if he doesn't want to be friends anymore?" I did like his company. I just didn't want to date him.

"That's his choice. But he's not going to leave you alone until you make it clear that's what you want him to do."

"And sometimes, they still don't take the hint." Let him make of that what he wanted.

"I thought we were going to play nice."

"I am."

"So what was that dig about?"

"I was speaking of men in general." Kind of. "But since you brought it up, you're not so hot at taking hints yourself."

"What are you talking about?"

"When we met in May? You hit on me even though I told you to go away, and then you bothered me the next day?"

"If you'd told me to leave you alone, I would have."

I started laughing so hard I had trouble breathing. When I was able to type coherently again, I responded. "Sorry, was ROTFLOL at what a load of bull that is. I told you in every single way I could think of and you still kept trying to get me into bed. It took slapping you to get through to you. Remember when you staggered off the floor, clutching your face?"  
Long pause. "Yes, I remember that."

"Oh, I bet you do," I said gleefully to the screen. How could he forget? I could only imagine what had been going through Kyle's head then, when he realized whom he was talking to and what he'd said. I'd have to ask Bri sometime. Hopefully lots of vulgarities, not that I liked swearing. I just wanted to know that he remembered me as the one who got away but not before smacking him around a bit just to make her point. In case he'd forgotten why he didn't want to mess with me, I decided to turn the screws a bit tighter.

"As if that wasn't enough, you were back at it the next day, harassing me and being obnoxious and being insulting."

"When was I being insulting?"

"When you said Brian had forgotten I was there. That was coarse, insensitive, obnoxious, and a total-turn off. It hurt. A lot."

"That wasn't my intention."

"How else could it come off? You say that my best friend has forgotten I'm there, and you don't think that's going to upset me? Dense much?"

"As much as I'd love to stay and continue to be insulted, it's time to take off for the theatre."

A twinge of guilt shot through me. Bri would chew me out later if I didn't apologize and try to smooth things over with Kyle. "Sorry. It's been a really lousy day. Break a leg."

"Thanks."

I got offline, pulled the cord out of the communal phone jack in the living room, and headed back up to my room. If I somehow ran into him again online, I'd pick his mind about Broadway. I needed information to make my stories sound good.

The next day, between World Religions and Surgical Nursing, I stopped into the computer room in the vet sci building and logged on to AIM to see if Elisa or Brian was there. No such luck.

"Bugger. I wanted to tell them about Kyle," I muttered under my breath. But Cyndi, who preferred to be called Agent 7, was on, so I could harass her for a while. Definite fun. I opened and IM box and threatened to turn her army of cucumbers into salad. She and I had been waging war to see who would gain control of the world for over a year.

My threat against her cucumbers began that day's battle, and just as I was beginning to explain how I'd carry out my devious plans, an 'Accept' message popped up on the screen, cutting me off mid-word. I narrowed my eyes. "studlydoright51?" I muttered under my breath. "Not a chance, moron." I hit the 'refuse' button and went back to revealing my plans to Cyndi.

Not five seconds later, studlydoright51 wanted to talk to me again. I refused the perv again. No way was I going to assist them in their quest for a successful self-massage.

A few moments later, the 'Accept' message popped up again. Rolling my eyes, I accepted, just so I could block the jerk.

"It's Kyle", the message read.

"Hey." Oh. My. Word. I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle the laughter. No bloody way! I couldn't wait to tell Elisa about this! "Interesting name. Definitely original."

"Thanks. A friend thought it up."

"Anything interesting going on?"

"Not yet. I saw you were on so I thought I'd see how you're doing."

"I'm fine. The usual grind of classes and studying." He'd wanted to see how I was doing? I'd had no mercy shredding him two nights ago and he was interested in making polite conversation? That he'd noticed I was online meant he'd added me to his Buddies list. Fabulous. The feeling wasn't mutual and I wasn't in the mood to make mindless small talk with him, even if it could yield info for my writing. Time to cut things short. "Hate to cut this short, but I need to go get lunch."

To Cyndi, I sent "Meet me in the dining hell for lunch. Need to get off AIM immediately. Person to be avoided on IM who will not retreat. Repeat, shows no signs of retreat. Must take extreme evasive measures."

"Understood, my enemy. Will meet you in the neutral zone."

"10-4." Kyle had replied to my message, but I exited out of AIM without reading it, grabbed my stuff, and took my time getting to the dining hall. It was a nice day, likely one of the few left before the chill and rain of fall set in.

The next time Kyle cornered me online, it was chat with him or read about the formation of red blood cells. It's truly sad when, given the choice between chat with someone who could help you with your writing or reading yet more boring stuff written in medicalese, you actually have to spend a moment debating which you'd rather be doing. The promise of possibly being able to learn about Broadway won out, so, after praying for the ability to bite my tongue and be nice, I answered Kyle's greeting.

Later, I realized Kyle and I had been able to carry on a polite conversation for over half an hour. Only at the end had he started to act like an ass, and instead of laying into him I'd chosen to bite my tongue and sign off. I snorted softly. Miracles did happen.


	5. Chapter 5

While Bri's regard for Kyle increased (because of drugs Kyle was slipping him, I was certain), mine did not

While Bri's regard for Kyle increased (because of drugs Kyle was slipping him, I was certain), mine did not. I did continue to talk to him over IM if he initiated it and it was generally civil, but only because I bit my tongue and reminded myself Kyle could be a decent person, even if that side was hidden most of the time, and I needed to stay on his good side if I wanted to keep learning about Broadway. Most importantly, Brian would've given me a hard time if I'd laid Kyle out in lavender for being the pompous jerk he was.

Thanksgiving break was a gift from God and I stumbled forth into its waiting arms with the last of my energy. I was totally drained from studying seven days a week, four to five hours a day, and keeping Nick at arm's length (I was starting to suspect I'd have to take Bri and Kyle's advice after all) and four days away from the insanity was exactly what I needed. I'd still have to study, unfortunately, but at least there wouldn't be classes adding more to the pile and being able to spend time with Elisa would do wonders for reviving my flagging optimism that I'd make it to graduation with some shred of my sanity intact after all.

First night home, I got online and logged into AIM, eager to talk to Bri or Elisa. Much to my disappointment, neither was there. Kyle, however, was, but I was tired and cranky and Nick had come on extremely strong in the past week, leaving me confused and more than a little wary, and I wasn't in the mood to deal with Mr. Cocky and Annoying.

As if to mock me, an IM from Kyle popped up.

"Home for Thanksgiving?" he asked

"And way from Nick, thank God."

"I'm sure."

"Things got a lot worse yesterday." I poured out how Nick had kissed me the night before, and as soon as I hit 'Enter', I mentally kicked myself. Now I was stuck talking to him for a while. He did know about the situation, though, and with Bri not around, talking to him would be better than nothing. "I'm hoping he'll get the message after this."

"He might not. How many more weeks do you have after Thanksgiving?"

"About three."

"Don't be alone with him."

I snorted. Yeah, as if that hadn't occurred to me. "Not if I can prevent it. I told Maureen what happened and she said she'd talk to him. I'd like to think it'll have an effect, but he only listens to what he wants to hear."

"The next time he tries anything, grab his package and twist. Hard."

"The idea of touching him down there makes me want to puke and then dip my hand in Lysol to get the germs off."

"You're not the only one who's had no clue what the heck is going on, so don't kick yourself."

"Yeah, but so many people saw what Nick wanted long before I did. And they told me he'd never take 'just friends' as an answer. I feel stupid." Long silence. "Kyle?"

"Sorry." More silence. "You can't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you."

"Okay." I wouldn't tell anyone what he was about to tell me without changing names and locations first. Whatever it was, I knew it had to be good and definitely worth repeating.

As with all of our conversations that far, what began entirely civil degenerated into bickering.

"Bully for you, that you made up for lost time with the ladies at Oberlin. I wasn't as clueless as you were. I knew how to tell if someone was coming on to me in ninth grade, so I was four years ahead of you in getting a clue. It's the finer points of 'I like you' that went over my head. I'm not as stupid at nineteen as you were."

Silence. "I never said that. What's your problem?"

"I was not 'clueless' when I got to college; not like you were. Is that what you assumed in May, that I didn't know squat and I'd give in to you if you kept coming on to me? Is that why you insisted on harassing me before the bus left? Did you think if you kept at it I'd come visit you at some point and then you'd be able to rub it in Bri's face you got me into bed?"

"I had no idea who you were when we met and, when I did know, if I'd had any illusions you'd be easy to get into bed, I didn't at the end of the night."

"Good." I was grinning so widely my cheeks were starting to hurt. I, the girl who never got dates, had put the king of manwhores in his place. How deliciously ironic. "Why did you bother me the next day, then?"

"You publicly embarrassed me the night before."

"So you decided to annoy me because your feelings were hurt. How totally second-grade." How totally pathetic. He was thirty-one years old and he'd lashed out like an eight-year-old because I yelled at him to go away; I didn't want to play with him. I smirked. Play with him, indeed. That was one way of putting it. I'd definitely have to use that in one of my stories.

"You asked. Did you think I did it because I love humiliation and didn't get enough of it the night before?"

"Hardly. Being petty and immature is much more plausible. That's how guys with huge egos usually are when someone doesn't tell them how great they are."

"And yet I manage to avoid that when I talk to you. I feel so proud."

"Huh?"

"You never fail to remind me of what a shallow, pompous, sex-obsessed jerk I am, and I just realized that I haven't once resorted to calling you names and saying 'I know you are but what am I'. I guess I'm becoming a better person. Maybe that's why I put up with being insulted all the time."

"I do not always tell you you're a—" I stopped typing, a sick feeling in my gut. He was right. Just today, I'd slammed him twice in a row. Granted, the first time was totally deserved and he'd agreed with me, but I'd still slammed him twice in a row and I knew I'd never passed up an opportunity to try and knock him down a peg or two. I was certain I could hear God laughing and 'oh, how the mighty have fallen' came to mind. Hoisted on my own petard. I sighed. How embarrassing.

I deleted what I'd started to type, replacing it with "You're right. I'm sorry. Like I said, it's been a hard day. I wish I could forget any of this happened, and gotten a clue in a more pleasant way."

"He's just one jerk. There are lots of guys out there who aren't going to treat you like that. Look on the bright side. You know how to spot a guy's interest. You've learned. It could have been worse."

"But could be better."

"And could be worse," he countered.

"Point taken." Mom yelled up that dinner was on the table. "I need to go. Dinner's served."

"Okay. Talk to you later."

"Yeah. Later." As I logged off and shut my laptop down, I mulled over what he'd told me. It must've killed him to admit he'd once been Kyle the Dateless Wonder, but he had succeeded in making me feel not quite so stupid. As the implications of what that meant sank in, my lips twisted into a wry smirk. Generally well-behaved Christian girls were not supposed to find comfort and reassurance in a manwhore talking about how he'd started getting his groove on unless it was comfort and reassurance that their decision to abstain and remain virgins until they married was the correct one. God truly did work in extremely unusual ways, and these particular ways would remain our little secret.

Ten years on, flying home to Rochester, I stared out the window of the plane and wondered what I'd have said in November of 1998 if someone had told me I'd end up the best of friends with the Dateless Wonder. I smirked and snorted softly. There were a lot of things that had happened in the last ten years I'd have laughed at when I was nineteen.

"What's funny?" Kyle asked to my left.

"No, just thinking about how I've managed to keep my mouth shut for ten years about how you used to be a Dateless Wonder." My eyes never left the patchwork scene of fields and roads below. "I think that's a record for me."

"When was I a 'Dateless Wonder', as you so nicely put it?"

"When you got to Oberlin? You told me about…Evelyn and your sexual awakening in an attempt to reassure me I wasn't the only person ever to be so profoundly clueless at nineteen."

"Oh. That." It was clear from his voice it was a painful memory.

"Yes, that." I looked over at him, amused. "I did come away feeling better, mostly because I couldn't stop laughing at the idea of you ever being awkward around women. You got over that fast enough, though. Too bad you slacked off on most everything else when you were in school." He gave me the Evil Eye and I laughed. "It's not my fault if the truth hurts."

"You want that I should get you a shovel?" he asked dryly. "The only truth that hurts is the truth that you're jealous I double majored and graduated with high honors."

"Just voice and piano." Faux distain dripped from my voice. "Maybe I'd be impressed if you'd majored in difficult things and actually had to work for your grades."

"Oh, and a two year degree in how to pet animals is hard? Any toddler could do that, and you barely graduated with honors. I'm not the slacker."

"I know you are but what am I?" I stuck out my tongue at him and he laughed.

From the seat in front of us, Brian's tired voice said, "Do I have to come back there and separate you two? If I have to stop this car, you can forget about dessert after dinner tonight."

"He started it," I pouted. "He put his finger onto _my_ seat after I told him not to!"

"I don't care who started it. Be quiet or I'll be forced to tie you both to the roof rack."

"That's what you said two hours ago, dear." Felicity sounded disturbingly like a real mother. "That's the last time I give you kids Pixi Stix for breakfast."

"How much longer, Daddy?" I whinged softly.

"Ten more minutes," Brian intoned.

"You sound like a Marching Band chaperone."

"Good. Read a book or go play in traffic or something."

Ten minutes later, I leaned forward and, in the whiniest tone possible, said, "How much longer?"

"Ten more minutes," came the monotone reply.

"But that's what you said ten minutes ago!"

"I know."

The parental units were all waiting when we got off the plane and there was much hugging all around.

"We thought we'd seen the last of you," my dad said to Kyle as they shook hands. "Olivia never really told us what happened."

'Because it's none of your business!' I thought sourly. _Why_ did he have to bring that up? Some kids had parents who were only embarrassing when you were a teen. Some kids had parents like my dad, who were an embarrassment regardless of how old you were.

"Richard…." my mom said in a low voice. Louder, to Kyle, she said, "It is nice to see you."

"Thank you, Mrs. Masters. What time is dinner at your mother's tomorrow?"

I missed my mom's answer because Bri's mom, Mira, came up next to me. "Aren't you going to say hello?" she chided.

"Of course! You were busy fussing over Bri and Felicity. I was waiting until you were done telling them how thin they looked and reminding Bri to call more."

"They are thin and once a week isn't enough and I'm sure your parents would say the same thing. Come here." Mira gave me a big hug. "I've missed you! Let me get a good look." She stepped back and studied me for a moment. "Thank God someone is eating enough. You look fabulous, Olivia. What have you been doing?"

"Working flies for a show. I've lost weight and gained muscle." I flexed my left arm so she could see my biceps.

"Good for you." She leaned toward me and, casting a quick glance at Kyle, asked, "Any progress?"

"I wish."

She frowned. "Men! He takes you for granted, my dear. Start seeing someone and maybe then he'll realize he needs to do something before you marry some other man."

"You're assuming that would bother him. As far as I know, he still sees me as a friend, nothing more." I pulled a face.

"He's a fool." She smiled and patted my arm. "I'll see what I can do while he's here."

Knowing it would be pointless to try and talk her out of it, I thanked her and sent up a silent prayer that Mira's good intentions wouldn't make the situation worse. She could be as subtle as a baseball bat upside the head, especially when she felt something was of the utmost importance and seeing me married to a good man before I turned thirty was definitely up the utmost importance to her. Like Elly, she saw being over twenty-five and unmarried as a situation desperately in need of correcting. Unlike Elly, she wasn't obnoxious and tactless about it, though there had been times when I'd wanted to shove a rag in her mouth to shut her up, and she didn't think being single was inferior to being married.

"Jesus and Paul were single," she'd say, "and so were Mary and Martha and Lydia, the dealer in purple cloth Paul talks about in his letters. God only cares about the state of your heart, not if there's a ring on your finger."

Most importantly, Mira believed in assisting God, not playing God. I'd compared her to a less-meddling Emma Woodhouse when talking with Bri's younger sister, Shelly, one time, much to Shelly's amusement.

"Dad's not much of a Mr. Knightly, though," Shelly had quipped. "Too bald."

An hour later, the eight of us were crowded around a table at the Olive Garden. Thanks to the rather obvious machinations of Bri's mom, who'd recruited Bri, Felicity, and my dad, Kyle and I were sitting across from each other at one end.

"I swear I had nothing to do with this," I told him, embarrassed, after our waitress left with our drink orders. "I was hoping she'd be less obvious about it."

"Playing matchmaker, you mean?" He looked amused by the whole thing, much to my relief. I never doubted he'd take Mira's efforts in stride, but it was still nice to see he had a sense of humor about it.

I nodded, smiling wryly. "She feels it's her duty to help me find a husband before I wither away at the ancient age of thirty."

"A fate worse than death." He winked. "You wouldn't have this problem if you weren't so picky. Your standards are far too high."

"What, demanding more than he have a pulse and be able to get—father children? Yes, I have horribly high standards for a woman of my advanced age of nine and twenty. I would do far better to follow my cousin Elizabeth's example and settle for the first white male _Homo sapiens_ who shows any flicker of interest. After all, nothing's worse than being single." I took a sip of my soda, which the waitress had just delivered. "Unless, of course, you think like Liz's mom, in which case there's one thing worse than being single: marrying someone who isn't a WASP. God forbid a nice white girl like Liz and me marry a guy who's not a WASP. Perish the thought!" I struck a melodramatic Pose of Woe.

"Who says that?" Felicity asked, voice sharp.

"A distant Canadian relative, Elly, who is cranio-rectally inverted most of the time. I was telling Kyle I'm pretty sure Elly would rather see a good little white girl single than married to a guy who isn't a WASP. Being single past the age of twenty-five, to Elly and her daughter, is a horrible thing and should be avoided at all costs, such as by settling for a guy more boring than wet paper, which is what Liz did."

"I remember you mentioning them. The boring guy's the one who was complaining about how he had no home to your cousin right after she was attacked, right?"

"That's him. I tell you about the guy she was seeing when she taught in northern Canada, the First Nations police constable?"

Felicity nodded.

"A fabulous guy any woman with two bits of sense to knock together would kill the competition to get, and Elly has to go and push Liz's high school sweetheart—while she's dating the policeman." If they couldn't have figured it out from my tone, my expression left no doubt I thought Elly was a stupid cow. "For his sake, I'm glad he broke it off with Liz and got together with his childhood friend. He's too good for her and he shouldn't have to endure racist in-laws."

"Amen." Felicity gave me an approving look. "The darker the berry, the sweeter the juice, Mamá always said."

Everyone chuckled. I stole a look at my dad to see if he'd laughed out of politeness or because he truly thought it was amusing. He'd be singing a different tune if I were to start dating a guy whose skin was darker than mine, I had no doubt. I still remembered what he'd said about Felicity when she and Bri were getting married. To his credit, he admitted to having a racist streak. He thought he was less racist than he was, but at least he admitted it. When Liz had been teaching in the Middle of Nowhere, when her parents and Mike showed up they would talk like it was so fabulous Liz would want to go and work among 'those people', and the summer I was convalescing at my parents' following a serious car accident, when Elly got wind of the fact the friend who'd been driving the car was gay, she made a point of mentioning one of Mike's good friends was gay and how she'd always treated him like he was just like everyone else after he came out, but she felt bad for his mother, Connie, because it meant Connie wouldn't be able to enjoy all the traditions and trappings of a wedding.

I wanted badly to comment, but the head injury I'd suffered made thinking and trying to organize my thoughts akin to wading through molasses in the middle of January, and even when I did manage to get together a coherent thought it was a crapshoot how accurately I'd express myself. Aphasia, the doctors called it. It wasn't severe and no one made a big deal out of it, but I hated asking someone to open the door and having no idea I actually hadn't until they asked me what I'd meant by "Open the salad, please".

The doctors had no idea just how severe the brain damage from the head injury would be. It was a wait-and-see kind of thing. My intelligence and skill and ability with words had long been part of how I saw and defined myself, and the thought of being robbed of those terrified me. Who was I without words? During that time, I got an idea of what it's like for people who have trouble speaking. It was slowly getting better and I hoped it would go away completely.

That particular day, though, when Elly's clan were making sure to let everyone know they were With It and Accepting and Tolerant and Loved Diversity, I was in a fairly good mood because I'd finally been able to sit down at something quicker than a snail's pace without the room starting to spin around me and my broken pelvis had healed up enough I was able to walk on my own without excruciating amounts of pain that made me want to start popping Lortab like Tic Tacs. Climbing stairs was still a slow, painful process. Steps of any kind were a challenge unless they were shallow and the step from the porch to the front sidewalk was anything but. My parents were willing to help me if they weren't busy, but being impatient and exceedingly independent I usually did it myself.

To minimize the number of times I had to deal with the porch, I'd set up a lawn chair underneath the crab apple tree in the front yard (had to keep the sun off the healing scars) and brought out a water bottle, my laptop, several books, and the blanket I'd been knitting for the last eighteen months. For obvious reasons, I'd put a pillow on the seat of the chair, which was made of cedar.

It wouldn't escape the Pattersons' notice that I wasn't exactly the picture of health, so in the interest of keeping Elly from looking at me too closely and going apeshit when she saw the cuts on my face and jagged wounds from broken glass on the insides of both legs my parents told the invaders an abbreviated version of events that minimized the severity of pretty much everything. Elly, who never let lack of information get in the way of telling people how things should be done, advocated cleaning the wounds regularly with hydrogen peroxide and alcohol and regularly icing the area where I'd bumped my head.

"It'll keep the brain swelling down," she assured my parents.

Mild alarm registered when she gave instructions on wound care. You definitely did not want to do that, I remembered. They killed healthy tissue and there was no reason to be using them on mostly-healed wounds anyway. 'She has no idea what she's talking about,' I thought sardonically. 'If I had the energy, I'd probably—nah. She wouldn't listen.' I smirked to myself and picked up my knitting.

A dialogue with Elly Patterson was best described as Elly delivering a monologue while you nodded and occasionally made a monosyllabic reply. Occasionally, you'd have a chance to actually say something, but if she disagreed she'd start talking over you and explain why you were wrong and she was right.

As I mentioned, the friend I was riding with at the time of the accident is gay and that got Elly going about all the reasons she wasn't homophobic. Being a Christian of more conservative theological leanings, when you're friends with someone who's gay, that you firmly believe a homosexual lifestyle is wrong is going to come up. I chose to take the Path of Agree to Disagree and told Dean something along the lines of "Your life is between you and God and I'm not God. Yes, I believe homosexuality is a sin. I also believe it's no more or less of a sin than lying, lust, and stealing and I'd be a hypocrite if I condemned you for being a sinner when I am one myself. As long as we're on the same wavelength about living by the Golden Rule it's all good so let's go get some coffee, yeah?" I counted Dean among my closest friends and was proud to be a Fag Hag.

All the self-adulation finally got to me.

"Lawrence _is_ the blink as anyone else," I groused. "He's a truck, same as you and me, so don't act like it's a jolly thing you treat him like a 'normal' person. That you see him, and any gay person, as different and not normal makes it fresh being gay _is_ an issue for you and you _are_ prejudiced. Treating anyone who's green like just another person is common decency, not proof of anything special." When the Pattersons looked at me like I'd just spoken Swahili, I turned to my mom. "Did I do it again? What'd I say?"

"Is she always like this now?" Mike asked my dad. "What's wrong, that she can't speak right?"

"Why don't you ask her?" my dad said coolly. "Olivia is here and she is capable of answering questions herself."

"It's aphasia and it's because I hit my head. My brain mixes up houses." I realized I'd misspoken. "My brain mixes up words, exactly like that. I usually don't realize my mistake until someone glues it out to me. Oh, sorry," I said quickly when my mom corrected me. "Points it out to me. That's what I meant. Like my mom just did." My face was burning by that point and I wanted to go inside and hide but I wasn't going to give the Pattersons the satisfaction of seeing poor little me, so confused and hurt, running away to cry because everything's just so horrible and hard now and pity the poor thing, and that's what I was in their eyes. A thing, to be talked about as if I wasn't there, as if because I mixed up a few words I couldn't handle answering questions on my own. As if mixing up some words took an automatic 75 points off my IQ or something.

"I'm sorry," Liz said. "I teach a girl who has speech difficulties. She tries so hard and it's great when she says what she wants. She's smart but people don't see it."

"What matters is the idea being expressed, not how it's expressed." I stared straight at Mike as I said it. "It's a shame logs think other people are really stupid because they can't speak clearly. People, I mean. It's a shame _people_ think others are stupid because they can't speak clearly. Stephen Hawking's a genius and he needs a machine to speak." What I'd just said was case in point. Morons couldn't carry on intelligent conversations about abstract ideas. The ignorant, however, were another story. The less they knew, the more they talked. I smiled at the thought. Exhibit One: The Patterson Family. Where was April? I'd just noticed the one sane, intelligent, thoughtful member of the clan was missing. What a pity. At least the rest of my mom's family who'd come weren't treating me like I wasn't one step above a breathing vegetable. A few aunts seemed to think I was made of delicate crystal and would break if bumped too hard, but they talked to me, not at me.

"Are you going to sue the friend—who I assume isn't a friend any longer—who was driving?" Elly asked my parents.

"No, I'm not," I answered, "and you blink—" Mom nudged me "—sorry, assume wrongly. Dean is still my friend. I've read the police report and yellow—" another nudge "—based on that, and what I remember about the crash, it was violin—sorry, it wasn't anything that couldn't have happened to anyone else. It was an accident."

"Now, Olivia, the police say speed was involved," my dad interjected. "It was irresponsible driving."

"_Like I said_, it could have happened to anyone. Millions speed, yourself included, and you told me a lot of people crash at that particular turn. Shit happens." I mentally patted myself on the back for managing not to make any mistakes. To the Pattersons, I said, "If Dean wasn't taking it seriously I might consider a suit but he's very aware of the seriousness of what happened and he feels terrible. I forgave him for whatever fault he might have in causing the accident when I was in the hospital."

"It's the head injury talking," John said confidently. "When your head is clear, you might not be so forgiving."

"Maybe I will feel more hats—anger after a while, but that doesn't change the fact that he is up—sorry about what happened and not forgiving him and holding a bird—grudge is like drinking vinegar—poison and waiting for the other person to reach—die and God tells us to forgive as we have tread—been forgiven. It isn't an option."

"See how you feel in a few months." John's patronizing tone made me want to smack him, but that would've taken too much energy. Biting my tongue and forgiving John for being a prat like God wanted us to do was, for once, the preferable option. Maybe when my head cleared (_if_ it cleared, God willing) I would be mad at Dean like John said I would. If so, I'd work through it.

I'd meant every word when I'd said holding a grudge was like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die. Nothing was going to change what had happened and I'd already been robbed of enough health and peace of mind without willingly allowing any more to be taken from me. Those who knew the truth of the accident knew it was a miracle both of us had survived, nevermind that the worst I'd suffered was a broken pelvis and a closed head injury. I'd gotten off lightly. Both of us had. Whatever God's reason for keeping me this side of eternity, I had better things to do than waste any of my time and energy on a grudge against a good friend who was truly sorry for something that could've happened to any number of people, and considering speed may have been involved, I'd have been a total hypocrite if I harbored a grudge. I'd had a lead foot myself on more than one occasion

The Patterson sense of self-righteousness had survived worse than rebukes from an aphasic invalid, so it didn't take long for Elly to start talking about her views on the First Nations and other non-Anglos. My mom's cousin, Katie, was the first to hear Elly and come over to hear better. She left after a little bit and I watched her walk to her sister, Nancy, and start talking to her, occasionally gesturing with her head in Elly's direction. Before Katie was done speaking, both women had what looked like Really Pissed expressions.

This would be a good time to mention three of my mom's four Anglo-Italian cousins (on her dad's side) married someone who was black. Katie, the eldest, Nancy, Regina's mom, and Dave, the youngest, all married someone who was black. Katie and Nancy had both divorced and Katie later married a guy she knew in high school. Nancy hadn't remarried at this point. Only Todd, the second, took a pass on the bi-racial thing, marrying a woman who was as pasty white as he was. My dad had enough sense to keep his opinions to himself when they were around.

"Button up the Kevlar, kids, it's about to get ugly," I murmured to myself, trying to keep from grinning too widely lest Elly notice and ask me what I thought was so funny. I wanted her totally taken by surprise when one or more of the cousins pointed out to Elly how offensive her patronizing, condescending attitudes were to those who were genuinely colorblind and not racist.

The American offensive began a few minutes later when Katie pulled my mom aside to talk to her. Mom grimaced and nodded, rolled her eyes, and returned to our little group.

"Pardon me, Elly, but my aunt, uncle, and cousins are offended by your attitudes about race, so we'd appreciate it if you could talk about something else now." Mom, as always, was polite and diplomatic.

"They do? What did I say? How have I offended them?" Elly stood up and, to the horror of my parents and me, walked over to Katie and Nancy. "What did I say that offended you? I didn't realize people were so oversensitive about race."

'Duck and cover,' I thought, dreading the conflagration that would come because of Elly's profound lack of tact and sense. 'Keep pouring on the fuel, you twit. Keep digging yourself deeper and getting them even more irritated with you. Brill way to ruin the family gathering you force us to have every year. Way to make people dislike you even more than they already did!' To my mom, I said, "Pass the popcorn. It's going to be quite a show" in a low voice. She gave me a rebuking look and I grinned.

"I can't see why you think this is funny," Liz said in a huffy tone. "I know you don't like us much but I didn't think you'd find everyone ganging up on my mom fun."

"She iced it on herself," I said levelly. "Listen to my mom's couch if you want to know why. Sorry. Listen to my mom's cousins, I meant."

Nearby, Katie, the more even-tempered sister, was bluntly telling Elly exactly what had everyone upset.

"If you hadn't noticed, Dave is married to a black woman and Regina has a black father, Elly. My first husband was black. Don't act surprised that we're offended by your saying it's probably best for people to marry others like themselves."

"What about the cultural differences?" Elly countered. "Don't tell me those aren't a problem."

"What cultural differences? Our husbands grew up around here, same as we did," Nancy exclaimed.

"That I grew up in the South is the only cultural difference Dave and I have faced," Claire volunteered. "Skin color is not an issue at all."

"I know there's a black culture. April has black friends from the Caribbean and Liz's black friend's parents are Argentinean and that's a very different culture from ours. We've been very accepting of it and tell April it's okay to be friends with those kinds of people, even when they're very different from us."

After an endless moment of tense silence in which my mom's aunt, uncle, and cousins just stared at Elly like they weren't quite sure if they should beat her head or their own against the wall, Aunt Harriet walked over to my mom.

"Teresa, thank you for having us all over. Matt and I need to leave. Don't apologize," she said quickly when my mom started to speak. "It's been a pleasure seeing you, Robert, and Olivia and I'm sure I speak for everyone." She gave my mom's hand a squeeze and came over to me. "I'm glad you're doing better, Olivia. Matt and I have been praying for you."

"Thanks." I gave her a genuine smile. "I can use all the prayer I can get, so don't stop."

All the cousins were close on Aunt Harriet and Uncle Matt's heels, and all assured my mom their leaving early had nothing to do with her. Katie told my mom to give her a call later about doing something in a few weeks.

Supporting my mom in the aftermath of the asshattery qualified as a good enough reason to actually get up and walk, so, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from groaning in pain, I stood up, limped over to her, and wordlessly gave her a side hug.

"Thanks, Kid." She gave me a weak smile.

Elly, meanwhile, had just recovered from a profound case of Gobsmacked and recovered enough jaw tone to close her mouth. I wondered what sophomoric tripe she'd utter next and if it would be the crowning glory of her unparalleled display of ignorant condescension.

"I'm so sorry the party's ruined." Elly looked like she genuinely meant it. Any hopes of reason and accountability finally manifesting in a Patterson were quickly crushed, though, when she continued speaking. "I can't believe they were rude enough to just up and leave in the middle of everything. Some people are _so_ oversensitive and take everything the wrong way." She rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "Well, I guess all we can do is carry on as best as possible. John, did you want to start the grill?"

"I think it's time for you to leave," Dad said, tone brooking no argument. "Have a safe drive home." With a look to Mom and I telling us to follow him, he turned and went inside.

"But—but—what about dinner?" Elly exclaimed. "We were having such a good time! The party doesn't have to end just because everyone else left!"

"Drive safely. Olivia, will you need help stepping up onto the porch?"

"You can't do it yourself?" Liz asked, voice tinged with disbelief.

"More like I'd rather not. You see, when you break your pelvis, it hurts like hell to step up that high on your own and put that much weight on the broken bone." I explained, not looking at her, as I limped over to the porch.

"Doesn't look that high," Mike remarked casually.

"Break your pelvis and try to take steps and then get back to me," I snapped.

It took a little while, but after repeatedly ringing the doorbell, knocking on the door, and calling the house from Liz's mobile and getting no response, or in the case of the calls being hung up on, the Pattersons finally realized the party was well and truly over and departed.

The pelvic fracture healed up fabulously (it was hard to see where I'd broken it on x-ray six months later) and I regained full use of my wit and wisdom, which came in handy when dealing with the permanent damage to my hard drive and motherboard. Contrary to what John predicted, I remained as forgiving when my head was clear as I had been when I wasn't quite with it. There were times when I wondered why I'd been the one to get the worst of it when Dean was the one who'd been driving, but, for the most part, I managed to keep a positive attitude and got by with a little help from my friends, going back to college that fall and graduating with honors the following May. It took Dean over a year to get back behind the wheel of a car again and I never had any qualms about riding with him.

Kyle and I didn't rejoin forces to wreak havoc and destruction upon the world until several months after the accident, at which point I'd healed up well enough you could hardly see the scars on my face, and then only if you knew where to look, and showing the ones on my legs would've required dropping my pants in public and I wasn't that kind of girl. Even without cool visuals, I still managed to hold his attention with my tale of barely escaping death and making a fabulous recovery to the snarky person of awesomeness I'd always been. He insisted it's a good thing the scars on my face were so hard to see.

"It would be a shame if such stunning beauty were marred," he'd insisted. "Like vandalizing the Mona Lisa."

"Flattery will get you everywhere—almost."

"Almost?"

I'd smiled and nodded. "Almost. Flattery will, however, work in your favor."

That had been, I realized with a start, over five years ago. I idly ran my finger over the nearly invisible scar under my right eye and wondered where I'd be in another five years. Hopefully working as a zookeeper and married with one kid and maybe another on the way.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Kyle teased.

"More like ten cents with inflation," I shot back with a smile. "Be glad the oil companies aren't in charge of pricing or you'd have to fork over several bucks."

"Indeed." He rummaged in his pocket for a moment and handed me a dime a moment later. "So what were you grinning about? Are you set to put your plans for world domination into action?"

I shook my head. "Not quite yet. Just thinking about my crazy Canadian relatives and how Elly managed to offend most of my mom's family the summer I was in that car accident, talking about how 'those people' are very nice but it might not be wise to marry a black person because of the huge difference between black and white culture. One of my mom's cousin asked her what culture difference; she and the black guy she'd married both grew up in the same area, and Elly started talking about how black friends of Liz and April were from Argentina and Jamaica and the Caribbean as proof of how black culture is different from white North American culture." I smirked. "That's when everyone left. If I hadn't been out of it from the head injury, I'd probably have pointed out each country has its own culture and it has nothing to do with skin color, but I probably would've just wasted my breath so keeping my mouth shut was best in the end."

Kyle patted my hand sympathetically. "Stupidity should be painful. Your mom's relatives didn't blame her for Elly's garbage, did they?"

"No, of course not. Everyone got together at her cousin Katie's house a few weeks later."


	6. Chapter 6

Kyle giving me the dime had stirred something in my memory, but I couldn't recall what, specifically. I lifted the coin and looked at the date to see if it would ring any bells, but 1994 had been a dull year. What was it, then?

I stuffed the dime in my jeans pocket and sighed. "I really hate it when I'm trying to recall something and it refuses to surface. It'll come to me later at some random time when it doesn't matter any more, of course. Have you—" And then I remembered, and a smug grin spread across my face.

"Do you remember what happened the last time you offered me a penny for my thoughts?"

"No. Should I?" He looked vaguely concerned, which only made my grin wider.

"The last time, it was only five cents with inflation." I leaned toward him on my elbows. "I believe you told me you liked my sense of humor."

"Wasn't that—" Bri started, but stopped speaking when I shot him a Look.

"I was in a _really_ bad mood that night, but you didn't seem to care. You were…very friendly."

I could tell when all the pieces clicked in his mind because the expression of vague concern morphed into one similar to when I'd reminded him of his time as a Dateless Wonder, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"You would remember that," Kyle said dryly.

"You never did give me a nickel," I teased.

"You never told me what you were thinking." His face had relaxed and I could tell he was going to try and make me squirm for bringing it up.

"Yes, I—no, you're right. I didn't because it was of a highly personal nature and you were among the last people there that night I'd have told."

"And now?" He raised an eyebrow, looking far too confident and amused for my liking and I knew I'd been right; he wouldn't stop until I'd turned red.

"I'd consider it." 'Chew on that,' I thought smugly. I picked up a breadstick and held it out to him. "Have a breadstick. They're really good."

"Thank you. Brian, you remember the night Olivia brought up, don't you?"

"How could I not? Everyone was talking about you two for weeks."

There was a moment of silence following Bri's revelation. The parents, I was certain, were waiting for someone to elaborate; I, face burning, was torn between dying of mortification right then or killing Brian and then dying; Felicity was embarrassed by what her darling husband had said; Bri was realizing he really, really, _really_ shouldn't have said that and dreading the outpouring of wrath awaiting him; and Kyle was probably contemplating how he would be rather immediately murdered by my dad when he found out just how friendly Kyle had been.

"I'll be right back," I said, standing up quickly. "Just need the bathroom."

"I'll join you." Felicity, who was next to me, rose and we wasted no time getting away from the Table of Horrors.

In the bathroom, I rested my forehead against the wall next to the hand dryer.

"Would you mind terribly if I killed your husband, Felicity? I know it's asking a lot, but I'm sure you can understand, considering the circumstances. I can mostly kill him and you can finish the job, if you'd like to have a go at him as well."

"Murder's a bit drastic—he didn't give details, but I'll lend him to you for an afternoon if you'd like to throttle him. Just be sure not to kill him. Dead husbands aren't good for much."

"You're too kind." I laughed weakly. "All I wanted to do was razz Kyle. Keep it nice and general and not get into details. Definitely not the details. Then he _had_ to go and bring Bri into it." I lightly banged my head against the wall. "Shoot me now, please. Our parents are going to assume the worst—which probably won't be too far from the truth, actually, and my dad will forbid me to ever have anything to with Kyle again and I'll have to humor him so he doesn't get even more irate because I'm not being a good little girl and doing whatever he says. My mom will be horrified because she thought Kyle was such a nice guy and she let me go away alone with him and she'll want to know why I had anything to do with Kyle after what happened, and all the other questions mothers throw at you, and I can guarantee it'll be over the dead bodies of both my parents they'll ever approve of Kyle and I being in a relationship even though he's totally changed, and then Bri's parents." I gave a bark of laughter. "It'll be Thanksgiving Tension from Hell. Mira will take what happened as further proof I have lousy taste in guys and need someone to find decent guys for me, which she will take great pleasure in doing." I turned around and leaned back against the wall. "I should've just stayed in the City and done Thanksgiving with Georgia and her kids."

"C'mere." Felicity gave me a quick hug. "We'd better get back. We left those two alone with the parents, and I shudder to think of what else they might have said."

"Lord save us all! They are actors, though, so maybe they've already done damage control and averted total disaster."

Felicity gave me a 'be serious' look. "Kyle, probably. Brian…Mira speaks and he obeys. You know how it is. One look from her and it's all 'Yes, Mom' and 'Of course, Mom'."

"Good point. Is it too late to pray for a miracle?"

"We were beginning to wonder if you fell in," my dad joked.

"It was a near miss," I quipped, studying Kyle and Bri's faces to try and get an idea where things stood. Before I had much of a chance to determine anything, the waitress arrived to take our orders.

While the parents were ordering, I leaned across the table.

"What did you tell our parents?" I asked in a low voice.

"The truth." His lips twitched with suppressed laughter at my horrified expression. "Do you think I'd still be sitting here if we had? They think the reason people were talking was because you agreed to dance with me just to shut me up and we started arguing on the dance floor and you walked off, leaving me there on my own. Your parents didn't seem at all surprised."

"Like father, like daughter," I said archly. "Neither of us suffers fools gladly." I flashed him a smile and took a drink of my soda.

The rest of the meal went smoothly and when we left, my parents went with Bri's parents and, to the mock horror of my friends, I got my parents' car so the four of us could go to Java's.

"Just like going home, eh, Bri?" I flashed him a grin in the rearview mirror. "I get to be the insane driver this time. Now you can know the terror and mortal fear I felt all those years ago."

"I've ridden with you before, Olivia. I know the terror and mortal fear your driving inspires and I've already begged your forgiveness for putting you through such an ordeal all those years."

"I never said that was the only reason. You totally owe me for shooting your mouth off earlier." I started the car and revved the engine for effect.

"What have Felicity and Kyle done to deserve such torment? You wouldn't torture innocents, would you?" Brian's exceedingly pious, self-righteous tone grated on my nerves, which was probably his intention.

"I'm sure there's something Kyle's done to deserve riding with me, but you're right about Felicity." I pretended to be disappointed. "Okay, for her sake I'll try not to give anyone too many grey hairs. The next time I'm driving and she's not around, though…." I smiled broadly at him again in the rear view mirror. "Felicity's given me permission to borrow you for an afternoon and throttle you for what happened earlier. Making you scream like a little girl will be more fun, though."

"Can I call my lawyer before we go?" Kyle asked. "I want to make sure my will is up to date before—hey!" He rubbed the area on his arm where I'd smacked him.

"Felicity, if you'd like to get out and wait here while I go make these manly men scream like little girls, you're welcome to get out. I shouldn't be long."

"The roads are too empty around here. Wait until we're back in the City and make them suffer through a ride on the Parkway."

"I knew there was a reason I liked you!" I crowed, laughing. "Terror on the Parkway it is, then."

I'm not a perfect driver and perhaps the fact driving the 401 and QEW in Ontario, Canada has never bothered me indicates a certain level of insanity, but I'm nowhere near as bad as some of the other morons on the road and the cars I drive are held together by more than rust, Bond-O, and prayer. My parents gave me a hard time about my driving at times, but that's what parents do so I didn't take them too seriously, especially my dad who had quite the leadfoot and had his license suspended at one point because of how many tickets he got for speeding, and Kyle and Bri never missed an opportunity to rag me, but other than that, I'd never heard anything from anyone else (unless their holding onto the door handle counted).

Those boys had absolutely no grounds to complain because both of them encouraged—nay, promoted the very things they now found fault with. It was Kyle who, one weekend in Toronto, suggested two in the morning would be a good time to take his car out on the 401 and seeing how fast it could go because there wouldn't be many cars on the road at that time, as well as trying to impress me with a wide range of Stupid Driver Tricks that would've impressed the guys from MTV's _Jackass_. Bri was the one who'd gotten me addicted to speed when he introduced me to the joys of motorcycles and, of course, he'd driven the car held together by rust, Bond-O, and prayer for more years than seemed possible. Oh, and both of them talked on their cell phones while driving—and I don't mean with a hands-free setup. Not that they drove much in the City, but it was the principle of the thing. They gave me a hard time, I gave them a hard time back and never let them forget they were the ones who'd corrupted me.

The roads were fairly crowded as we drove across town to Java's, so I behaved myself. Of course, that didn't stop the guys from commenting.

"Felicity can drive home, then," I said tersely as I brushed past Kyle, who was holding the door for the rest of us. "Bri, you can navigate."

"I don't know the area," Felicity protested. "I wouldn't feel comfortable."

"Okay, fair enough. Kyle, you've driven around here, so with Bri navigating there shouldn't be any problems. Sound good?" Before either had a chance to protest, I continued. "Excellent. Let's get in line." I looked forward to having opportunties to jerk their chains with all the enthusiasm they put into jerking mine, turnabout being fair play and all.

The main subject of conversation, once we all had our caffeinated beverages and overpriced, fattening pastries, was that May evening ten-and-a-half years ago.

"You have no idea how much of an ass you were," I told Kyle, pointing at him with my fork. "When Heather asked me if I did surgery, the idea of having a go at you was very tempting. Taking off that little extra the doctor forgot, like she suggested." I smiled sweetly.

"What is it with you and castration? Should I start wearing an iron strap, just in case you get mad and pull a knife?"

I shrugged. "Depends on how often you plan on getting me mad. I have much more effective ways of being a petty, vengeful witch, though, so you don't need to worry about being…unmanned. Knowledge is power, after all." I cut off a piece of his Key Lime pie with my fork. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." He took some of my Double Chocolate Devil's Food cake. "You never even gave me a chance. I try to be nice and start a conversation with you at the bar, and next thing I know you're running off and were hostile the rest of the night. If you'd taken the time to get to know me better, you would've seen the real me."

I started laughing, slapping my hands over my mouth a moment later when I realized how loud I was. See the real him. Right. More like see him really naked.

"You haven't lost your touch," I said when I was able to speak again. "Still aces at making me laugh so hard I can't breathe. At least you're not serious this time."

He looked taken aback. "I'm totally serious."

"Seriously trying to pick me up, I mean. I have no doubt I'd have seen the real you, naked as the day you were born. Probably would've liked it, too." I regarded him over the rim of my mug as I took a drink of my tea.

Kyle's eyebrows shot up, the hand lifting his coffee mug froze, and he looked at me like he wasn't sure he'd heard me right, and all I could do was grin. I'd actually managed to throw Kyle for a loop. Would wonders never cease. To my right, Brian was trying, and failing, not to laugh.

"What?" I asked, feigning cluelessness, as I set my mug down.

"You would have _liked it_?"

"You make it sound so dirty and wrong. Is there a reason I wouldn't have? Something that wasn't visible when you were in _Joseph_, like a prehensile tail?"

"No," he said slowly. "It just—you—I don't know."

"You were a good-looking guy who obviously took care of himself. Just because I hated your attitude doesn't mean I didn't like the packaging."

"Really?"

I chuckled and shook my head slightly. "Yes, really. I've been many things, but unaware of and entirely unaffected by your charms are not on that list."

As soon as I said it, Kyle got a look in his eye that made me wish I could take it all back. I'd never hear the end of it now. Not a chance he'd let me forget I'd admitted I'd thought he was hot. Of course, his knowing could work in my favor. Maybe I'd stand a better chance with him now that he knew better just how hot I thought he was. I briefly debated laying it on a little thicker, but decided to wait until Bri and Felicity weren't around. Any attempts by Kyle at chain-jerking, though, would leave me no choice but to answer with total honesty after asking Bri and Felicity to excuse us for a moment.

"So do you still like the packaging?" The Eau de Smug Male he'd begun exuding was nauseatingly strong.

I smiled calmly. "Bri, Felicity, would you excuse us for a minute?"

"I'm not helping you move any bodies, Olivia," Bri said, sounding a bit put out. "I can't keep being an accessory to murder like that."

"Bugger off for a bit like a good boy, okay? I'm not going to murder him. Intentionally, at least." I shrugged slightly. "It won't be my fault if he can't handle what I tell him."

"I think I'd like to hear this." Bri started to sit back down but Felicity grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the table.

When we were alone, my smug confidence began to wane and I started to have second thoughts about being totally honest. What if I totally freaked him out? I didn't want to totally scare him off, just take him off guard enough to shut him up for a while. What if I came on too strong? Maybe I should tone it down a bit and leave out the 'sex on legs' part. That could work. If he kept pushing it, then I could drop that on him.

When Bri and Felicity were several feet away, Kyle leaned toward me on his elbows.

"So, what do you have to say you don't want them overhearing? Confessions of how you always dream about me?"

"The sleeping pills took care of that problem," I quipped. "All those nightmares were making it hard to get a good night's sleep. Nothing explicit, either. I hope you're not too disappointed."

"More than you can imagine," he said dryly. "Then why send them away?"

"I know jerking my chain is less fun for you when there isn't an audience."

"You'll tell them all about it later, so why does it matter if they hear?"

"Don't assume. It makes an ass out of you and annoys me." I smiled stiffly. "Any time you're ready to stop prevaricating, let me know."

"What does that mean? In English, please."

I rolled my eyes. "It's not my fault you have a small vocabulary. Dumbing it down, when you're ready to stop stalling, let me know. I had no idea you'd be so nervous about hearing if I still like the packaging." I made quote marks in the air with my fingers around the last three words.

"Anytime you're ready." He smiled complacently.

I rested my elbows on the table and leaned forward, wearing a mask of slightly cocky amusement.

"Do I still like the packaging?" A sanguine smile spread across my face. "You have _no_ idea."

"That's why I asked."

"What's not to like? Thousands of loyal fans definitely know a good thing."

"I didn't ask what my fans thought, I asked what you thought."

"And I just told you. Try to listen next time."

He laughed softly. "You told me what my fans think and I already know they'd fight each other to the death for the chance to have sex with me. I want to know what the one woman to pass up that fabulous opportunity thinks."

" 'Fabulous opportunity'?" I snorted softly. "I'll take your word for it." I quirked an eyebrow and smirked. "Humility was never your strong suit."

"Prevaricating much?"

"Am I supposed to be impressed?"

"Are you?"

"I can pretend I am if it'll make you feel better."

"I'd prefer an answer."

"As you wish. Sorry for dissembling. Your gargantuan ego distracted me. To answer your question, I'll repeat myself again: what's not to like? Other than your overweening opinion of yourself, but some things never change."

"And yet, you still love me."

'More than you know,' I thought. Out loud, I said, "No changing the subject. Did I answer your question to your liking or do I need to use smaller words?"

"It'll do for now." He straightened up. "So that's what you didn't want Brian and Felicity to hear? You said worse right in front of them."

"Preventative measure, in case things went in a strange direction, which tends to happen when I'm talking with you." I picked up my fork and finished my cake, washing it down with some now-cold tea. "We have some of the—" I froze when I saw who had just walked up to the main counter. I blinked, hoping my vision would clear and I'd realize the face was the wrong shape or their eyes the wrong color, but he was still there, looking up at the menu boards, when I opened my eyes again. "Holy fucking shit, what is he doing here?" I breathed, starting to feel ill.

"Olivia, what is it? Olivia!" Kyle grabbed my hand when I didn't respond.

"What?" Muzzily, I tried to focus on what he was saying.

"What is wrong? You like you've seen a ghost. What is it? Who'd you see?"

"Chris." I swallowed hard and looked down at the table for a moment. "Chris is here."

"Chris? Who's that? Someone you knew in high school?"

"No, no, I wish," I said quickly. "I'm getting Bri and Felicity." I shoved back my chair and started walking before I was fully standing.

"Chris is here," I blurted as soon as I was within a foot or so of my friends. "Chris is at the counter and I have no idea what he's doing here and I just want to leave now. I can't let him see me or—I want to go now. Please."

"Of course," Bri said, trading confused, worried glances with Felicity. "Who is Chris? Why are you so freaked out?"

"England. I knew him in England." I buried my face in my hands. "I can't talk about it right now. Let's just go. Please."

"Of course." Felicity came over and put an arm around me. "We'll go back to Mira and Jeff's and—"

"No, not there. I don't want them hearing. Mira will start fussing and prying and I don't want that I just need to get away from here." I leaned against her. "I don't know. Definitely don't want to go home and have my parents hear. You're right. Let's go to Bri's."

"What's wrong?" Kyle asked Felicity when he saw me leaning against her.

"I don't know. Olivia said something about seeing a Chris she knew in England and wanting to leave." She pulled my coat off the back of my chair and handed it to me, along with my purse.

"Olivia! I can't believe it's you!" Any shred of hope I had left I'd mistaken someone else for Chris died when I heard his voice, and he was coming toward me. "How are you?"

A wave of nausea washed over me and I began hurrying toward the door, desperate to escape before I was caught and forced to face him.

"Olivia?" A moment later, he said my name again and he was closer that time. "Olivia, it's Chris."

A hand from behind touched my shoulder and I startled.

"It's me," I heard Bri say and I almost started to cry with relief. "He's persistent, isn't he?"

"No idea why." I reached up and put my hand over his. "Has he gone back to his coffee?"

"No."

'Damn.' I grabbed for the door handle, but someone else beat me to it. Looking up, I felt my eyes go wide.

"Olivia, what's wrong? Don't you remember me?"

Christopher Marlowe hadn't changed a bit in the four-ish years since I'd last seen him. Black hair, forest green eyes, goatee, rakish smile, single ring in his left ear, still wearing the same denim jacket he'd had last time I'd seen him, and, for a moment, I felt like it was July 2004 again we were in London, in the Lord John Russell, getting ready to leave after last bell. Chris would walk me back to my dorm, where I'd start up my laptop and blog about the day, leaving out any mention of the guy I'd fallen in love with, and then he'd go three blocks south to his flat near Russell Square Tube station.

The moment died when the door was pushed open from the outside and a gust of chilly air swept in around our ankles. Someone in a winter coat shoved past all of us gathered by the door and muttered about how we should get out of the way and stop blocking traffic and keeping people from getting their coffee. Typical Rochester attitude.

"I wish I didn't. Excuse us. My friends and I are leaving." I reached again for the door handle and Chris took my hand. "Let GO of me!" I snapped, jerking my hand away as if I'd been burned. "I may have forgiven but I have not forgotten and if you think I'm at all happy to see you, you're very mistaken."

Bri's hand moved to my upper arm and he pulled me back against him. To my left, Felicity took my hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Please move. We were leaving," Bri said, voice sharp.

Chris stepped to the side. "Olivia, I know it's hard, but—"

"You have no idea." I gave him a disgusted look. "You have no bloody idea at all." I grabbed for the door handle again and, this time, Chris didn't try to stop me.

"You're shaking like a leaf," Bri commented as we walked to where we'd parked. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Eventually. It just really shook me up."

"What'd he do, if you don't mind me asking," Felicity said. "You're white as a sheet and I've never seen you so rattled you're shaking."

"The short version is I met him when I was in London, fell in love with him, thought I was going to move back to England to be with him, and he dumped me two months after I got back here because he thought I was taking too long. That was four years ago last month."

"So you had no idea he was in Rochester."

"None. Last I knew, he was working for an architecture firm in London."

"Aye!" She sighed. "What a surprise you got! He broke up with you four years ago and thinks everything will be fine when you see him in your hometown?" She lapsed into rapid-fire Spanish and, from the few words I was able to catch, was upset about men who thought a woman would be happy to see them. That or not being able to get lemons when she was hungry.

"You want that we should break his kneecaps?" Bri asked in a lousy Italian accent. "I can gets my baseball bat from my parents' and go teach him a lesson."

I rolled my eyes. "No thanks, Guido. He's not worth going to jail for."

Back at the car, Bri took the driver's seat and I got in behind him because I had short legs, so my knees wouldn't be in my throat when he pushed the seat back. Everyone insisted I could ride shotgun, but I declined.

"I'm fine, really. I appreciate it, but Bri's the tallest so the shortest person should sit behind him. Besides, if I'm shotgun I can't very well make out with Kyle for Chris to see when he decides to chase the car as we drive away. I suppose Bri and I could try."

"You do and I'll give you another reason to shake like a leaf!" Felicity said archly. "The only lips Brian is kissing are _mine_."

"Not even if it's just to make a point and it doesn't mean anything?" Bri asked in a hopeful tone.

Felicity gave him a Glare of Doom. "Olivia isn't the only one who knows how to cut things off."

"Kyle it is then!" I declared. "Wouldn't be good for Bri to be missing fingers."

"Among other parts," Felicity added darkly.

At Bri's parents', Felicity and I raided the kitchen and pantry while the guys headed into the family room to decide on a movie. To our surprise, they chose _Return to Me_.

"It's not total mush. It has guys playing cards. And zoo stuff, so Olivia will be happy."

"You're too kind." I set down my bagged booty of tasty fried treats on the coffee table. "Felicity, where'd you put the drinks?"

"You put the chips on top of them."

"That would explain why I can't see them anywhere. Okay, then!" I moved the tasty friend treats to the loveseat. "Coffee's going in the kitchen and there's water heating for tea, if anyone other than me wants any."

Truth be told, my favorite parts of _Return to Me_ were Minnie Driver's grandfathers and their card-playing buddies yammering on during poker about who was better, Frank Sinatra or Dean Martin. Of course I enjoyed the scenes at the Chicago Zoo but there were far too few of them for my liking.

We waited to start the movie until everyone had their drinks and had gotten comfortable (read: the ladies had made themselves comfortable using the guys as pillows/backrests), with a pee break about halfway through.

With four people and two toilets, some of us had to wait so I put away the unopened chips, started more coffee, and made myself a fresh cup of tea while Felicity was in the downstairs powder room.

"How many brothers and sisters does Brian have?" Kyle asked me. He was waiting with me in the kitchen until Bri was done upstairs.

"Just Shelly, who's younger."

"That must've been fun on school mornings, trying to get into the bathroom while his sister was hogging it."

"She's a year younger than me, so she was only fourteen when Bri went to college. He managed to escape that agony, though I hear Bri hogged the bathroom well enough on his own at times. Shelly sometimes threatened to pee on his bed if he didn't hurry up. That usually had the desired effect." The teabag had been steeping for several minutes at that point, so I pulled it out and tossed it into the sink to cool down. "She and I got along well enough, but we were never really good friends. She and I ran in different circles at school. What about you? You never told me if you have any brothers or sisters."

"One brother, one sister, both younger."

"What are their names?" Something told me getting anything out of him was going to be like pulling teeth. He'd brought up brothers and sisters, so I'd hoped he'd be more open than usual about his family, but maybe that was asking for too much.

"Eric and Jennifer. He's four years younger and she's…your age, if I remember right." Long pause. "I haven't seen them since I left for college."

"Oh. I'm sorry. How come?"

"Long story." He turned to the coffee maker and pulled the pot to fill his mug. "Did you put the milk back in the fridge?"

"No, it's still on the coffee table." Just like pulling teeth, indeed. That was the most I'd ever gotten out of him about his family in ten years. The way he (didn't) talked, it was like he'd suddenly come into existence at Oberlin Conservatory in 1985 at the age of eighteen because he rarely mentioned anything before that. The other mod of his website, Jill, had gone to high school with him but she was as silent as the grave and I'd never been able to get anything out of her.

Speaking of his website, most of Thanksgiving morning was spent at Mira and Jeff's, taking advantage of their high speed internet to start working on the December update for Kyle's website, namely going through all the fan mail sent to the website.

_Your moderators have heard your pleas, oh, most devoted of Harling's darlings_, I typed as I started the monthly letter/news update, silently gagging on what his fans insisted on calling themselves. Jill and I referred to ourselves as #1 Fangirl and #2 Fangirl, respectively, because neither of us could stomach the idea of calling ourselves #1 Darling and #2 Darling. Jill, of course, knew about my unrequited love for Kyle (who better to talk to than someone who'd known him for decades?) and would tease me about how I'd be only too happy to call myself #1 Darling.

"Absolutely, but not in public and if I ever see that show up on the website I'll know exactly who to skin alive, Jill," was my usual reply. "You just don't want to be demoted to #2. Admit it!"

_We have heard your pleas and, this month, we have a gift for you: we locked everyone's favorite Broadway idol in a small room with a chair and a computer and we didn't let him out until he'd answered at least twenty of them._ The reality wasn't quite as dramatic, but the fans probably wouldn't have liked it if I told them what really happened: that while Jill and I had made Kyle promise to personally answer at least twenty of the emails, he wasn't locked in a small, bare room with only one light bulb hanging from the ceiling above the table the computer was on. He was sitting next to me at Jeff's computer, Bri and Felicity reading over our shoulders, and fortified with plenty of coffee and hot chocolate the four of us spent the morning going through Kyle's fan mail.

Kyle wanted to leave after half an hour, but I wouldn't let him.

"Don't tell me you don't see this kind of stuff in the snail mail you receive. Jill and I have to endure the illiterate depravity of Harling's twisted little Darlings twelve months a year. Well, eleven-and-a-half for her. You're taking her place this month and it's the least you can do for someone who's been loyal enough not to show me any of your grade school pictures, no matter how much I've offered to pay her. Unless you want the world to know how bad your haircut was in second grade when January rolls around, you're staying right here until we're done. That's straight from Jill, who's also promised if you shirk your duty she'll show me the high school yearbooks, too."

Kyle gave me a dirty look. "That's blackmail."

"We prefer to call it 'providing sufficient motivation'. Also, if you want Jill and I to continue to handle the email for you, you _will_ go through it with me today. Leave now, and you'll have to do it yourself or find someone else—and I doubt they'll do it for free like Jill and I do." I smiled brightly. "Just think, you can read about what Loretta from Granger, Kansas imagines you two doing together every single week! Jill and I do! You can also have the pleasure of attempting to decipher the mind-bendingly illiterate tripe that comes through on a regular basis. Look on the bright side. You only need to inconvenience yourself today and you don't have to do this alone. There are three of us here to support you and share your pain." No surprise, Kyle chose to stay where he was.

When it was time to commence celebrating the abundance by consuming as much of it as possible in one sitting, the four of us had managed to wade through the river of illiteracy, lunacy, and the mind-scarringly pornographic and extract the bits of intelligence and decency to be found. Thankfully, there were more than twenty and Kyle promised he'd have his replies to me within the week.

"As a Christmas gift, Jill and I want you to pay for the therapy we need because of what we read in your fan mail," I told Kyle as we walked downstairs.

"Have the shrink bill me. Did I tell you about the stuffed bunny I got from a woman in Florida last week?"

"If you did, I don't remember."

"If I had, you'd remember." He grimaced. "The fur on the back was kind of…stiff, a little bit, and the thing had a nasty smell to it. I tossed it, and I'm glad I did, because when I read the note she'd included with it, it turns out she—it was disgusting. She—she said she imagined the rabbit was me and went into detail about the many ways she'd enjoyed herself."

"Oh. My. Lord. Oh, dear. I'm so sorry." I patted his arm. "You want me to put up a request for no one to send you stuffed animals?"

"That would be great. Thanks."

"I ever live to serve. You must tell Jill about that one. She'll love it! Oh, before I leave, are you doing Turkey Day with Bri's family or am I tossing you in my trunk and hauling you to my grandmother's?"

"Go pop your trunk and I'll grab our coats."

"You're not going to join Bri and his male relatives in rooting for various college teams?"

"I already told Mira I was going with you. I can stay here, though, if there's not room at your grandmother's; you didn't say anything, so…." He trailed off, sounding a bit disappointed.

"There's plenty of room, don't worry. I just thought you'd stay here for the football. Most guys I know love their football on Thanksgiving. Dan and George love Thanksgiving football, if you can believe it. Bring your appetite; Gramma loves to cook, and be prepared for all my relatives to think you and I are dating and they probably won't take anything we say to the contrary seriously. So…my coat?"

"Oh, sorry." He opened the front closet, pulled our coats out, and held mine out to me.

"Didn't your mama teach you any manners? A gentleman does not hand a lady her coat, he helps her put it on." I stuck my tongue out at him as I put my coat on and zipped it up.

"Is that an offer?" He opened and held the front door for me.

"Are you interested?"

"I could be. Careful!" He caught me as I missed one of the porch steps and nearly did a face plant on the front walk. "You okay?"

"Yeah." I gave him a smile. "Watching where I'm going would be a good idea. Thanks for saving me from spending Turkey Day in the ER."

"A gentleman doesn't let a lady bloody her nose. I'm not a total embarrassment to my mama."

"Not entirely." I stuck my tongue out at him again, realizing a moment later he'd take it as more flirting. That hadn't been my intent, but considering his response the first time I'd done it, which was the reason I'd missed the step, I wasn't going to tell him that. As long as it worked in my favor, he could think whatever he wanted.

"Mama wouldn't approve of me being alone in a car with a woman like you."

"And why is that?" I asked as I crossed around the back of my mom's car to the driver's side.

"She always warned me about women who were too forward. Said they were loose, wanton women with no morals, who wanted to corrupt good boys like me."

I laughed as I opened the door and sat down inside. "There's no danger of that, my friend. You were corrupted _long_ before we ever met, and I know you enjoyed it every minute of it. What would your mama say about that?"

"She'd just lay down and die from the shame of it all," he with a thick Midwestern twang.

"So why does it matter what your mama would say about you being alone in a car with a woman of loose morals like me if she's not here to say anything?"

"It doesn't. I just said Mama wouldn't approve of me being in a car with a woman like you. Mama also said nothing good would happen if I let a loose woman lead me astray from the upright, moral path, but I ended up famous and rich and I spent lots of time with loose women with no morals."

I shook my head. "If your mama's looking down from Heaven now, I'm sure she's weeping over the horrible state of conscience and morals you've gotten yourself into. It's only by God's grace you aren't on a street corner somewhere in rags, begging for change so you can buy another bottle of cheap gin and a loaf of old bread."

"There's still time for that to happen, but until then, I think I'll keep enjoying myself with loose women like you."

I glanced at him wryly. "Right. Because I dare to stick out my tongue at a man and he takes it the wrong way, I am now a loose woman of questionable morals. May as well give in to the inevitable and let my inner slut out to play."

"If she's free later, she can come over to my house."

Without taking my eyes off the road, I reached over with my right hand and smacked his arm, which only made him laugh harder.

"Is that an offer?" I quipped.

"Are you interested?"

"I could be." Of course, my big, satisfied smile belied my words. Not meaning what you said was the point and we didn't take each other seriously, which was why I decided to throw in a bit of mostly-seriousness. "I am if you are." Very little danger of being rejected and plenty of opportunities for flirting my way to an early Christmas present.

"If I am what?"

"Interested. You said you could be interested."

"Stick your tongue out at me again and find out."

"Promises, promises." My smile grew. The cat had just found out the room was full of obese rats with limps. Oh, happy, happy day. In the distance, I was sure I could hear sleigh bells.

The Familial Inquisition began almost immediately as news of my Male Friend spread among the aunts, uncles, and cousins. A Male Friend on a Major Holiday could mean only One Thing so, of course, my family felt the need to make sure he was worthy of me. My parents, when queried about my Male Friend, made it clear he'd passed inspection and had their permission to spend time alone with me. He quickly won over my grandmother with copious amounts of charm and good manners and, having secured that important endorsement, went on to quickly win over the rest of my family. They were still thorough in attempting to ferret out if he had wives in other states he'd 'forgotten' to tell me about or any outstanding federal warrants for his arrests, and that he had a secure job that paid enough for him to support me in the manner to which they felt I should be accustomed. That, of course, led to the revelation he was a Big Name on Broadway.

"You never told us that!" Mom exclaimed, sounding a bit put out.

"I told you he works on Broadway." I shrugged. "It never really occurred to me to mention his work history." The times it did cross my mind I'd chosen to remain silent because I'd wanted to avoid this exact situation, where people would feel honored to be in the presence of such theatrical greatness and treat him like he was somehow on a higher level than the rest of us, mere mortals that we were. Yes, he was good at what he did but he was just as human and fallible as the rest of us who toiled away in obscurity. He was just as much of a pain in the rear end as Joe Blow and was definitely just as obtuse by virtue of the fact he was male as Joe Blow. Unlike Joe Blow, he looked good with stubble and bedhead, when wearing sweats, when shirtless…pretty much always, really, and he definitely didn't have any problem getting a date if he wanted one, but he and Joe were about equal when it came to finding a good woman (read: complained about not being able to find a good woman and not seeing the ones that were right there with huge 'GOOD MAN WANTED' signs) and both plucked grey hairs in an attempt to deny the inevitability of aging. As if having my family treating him like my unannounced fiancée wasn't enough, my family had to make a deal out of him being a Big Star and chiding me for not telling them.

No surprise, my grandmother asked Kyle to say the blessing before we all ate. Much to my pleasure, he kept it short, simple, and focused on God and how He had blessed us. Nothing fancy or showy, just the same kind of prayer most of the rest of us would say.

Once the bowls and platters were passed around the table and plates were filled, there was silence as we enjoyed my grandmother's fantastic cooking, punctuated occasionally by my grandmother asking, "Is everything okay? Are you sure? Let me know if you need anything" and everyone telling her it was great/fabulous/just fine/to sit down and eat and stop fussing; if we wanted more we could get it ourselves.

The second round of the interrogation began as people started to fill their plates with seconds, and Aunt Aimee launched the opening salvo.

"So where did you two meet?"

"Through my friend, Brian. He and Kyle were in a show together and I met Kyle one weekend when I went down to the City to see Bri."

"Oh." She nodded. "When was that?"

"May '98." I silently prayed she'd leave it at that, but had a gut feeling she wouldn't.

"So you've been friends for quite a while." Translation: So why aren't you two more serious yet?

"We met in 1998 but we weren't friends until later, and we lost touch for several years a little while back." Kyle, God bless him, stopped Aunt Aimee in her tracks. "Olivia and Brian invited me back to Rochester to spend Thanksgiving with them, and since I don't have any family in New York I decided to take them up on the offer. Olivia, Brian and his wife, and I spent last night together and Brian's parents have been nice enough to let me stay at their house." He smiled and scooped some squash onto his fork.

"But you're eating with us?" Aunt Aimee wasn't totally beaten yet.

"I'm not a big fan of football, which Brian's family loves. Olivia mentioned her family isn't as big on football so I decided to seek refuge here. We'll be going back to Brian's parents' house later."

"Oh, I see." My aunt, momentarily at a loss, returned her attention to the food on her plate.

Several hours later, laden with Cool Whip containers full of leftovers, Kyle and I headed out, stopping at my parents' to shove the containers in their fridge before going over to Bri's.

"My parental units are still at my grandmother's, so we're all alone. What would your mama say about this?" I needled him. "That our reputations are now totally ruined for sure and our only recourse is to be married to stop all the town gossips from nattering on about how we obviously were making mad, passionate monkeylove for the five minutes we've been here?"

He draped an arm around my shoulders. "I fear we are left with no other choice."

"Oh, horror and woe!" I leaned against him. "I will be thought—wait, didn't we already determine I'm a loose woman of uncertain morals and you were corrupted years ago by even looser women of even more uncertain morals?" I looked up at him. "If that's the case, what are we worried about? Everyone knows we engage in highly immoral acts, so our lack of chaperone won't surprise them in the least."

"Our hedonistic distain of propriety will certainly come to no good." Kyle yawned. "Let us go find others to share in our corruption, shall we?"

"The more the merrier!"

As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

"That was fast. I wonder if they brought the bondage gear," I remarked, eyebrows raised. "Maybe it's Bri and Felicity?"

"Only one way to find out." He gestured broadly toward the front of the house. "After you."

Out of habit, I looked through the peephole to see who was there and, when I recognized them I let loose with several adjectives that would've made a sailor blush. Before I'd become a Christian I had a mouth that made gansta rappers sound polite and whenever I got upset it wasn't unusual for me to let off a few choice words. I wasn't proud of it, but it was hard to change since I'd let it rip and then realize what I'd just said.

"Who is it?" Kyle pushed me aside and looked through the peephole. "Who's that?"

"Chris," I said flatly. "The guy I didn't want to talk to at Java's last night."


	7. Chapter 7

**Ye Olde Bridal Shower, 2009**

"Olivia!" I realized someone had squealed my name about a nanosecond before the person grabbed me and hugged me tightly enough to squish all my internal organs, a not-unfamiliar feeling from the times I'd worn a corset for various period costume events. Unlike wearing a corset, this particular organ-mashing and breath-restriction wasn't being inflicted slowly over an eight- to ten-hour period, for which I was thankful. At least if I ended up being snapped in half and dying, I wouldn't have suffered very long.

Just when I thought I heard ribs start to snap, the person released their vice-like hold and stepped back. I gratefully gulped in a deep breath and my oxygen-starved brain said 'Thank you' by taking away the little dots that had started dancing in front of my eyes and allowing me to see clearly.

"Sarah, dear, I don't think Kyle would appreciate it if you killed me by hugging me so tightly I broke in half," I chided. "I assume your enthusiastic greeting means you're thrilled for me. That, or you're so jealous of what a fabulous man I've caught you were trying to kill me so you could have a chance at him."

She gave me a 'what crack are you smoking' look. "I don't _need_ your man, Olivia. I have my own gorgeous stud who's good in bed."

I laughed. "I'll let you know if he's as good in bed as the rumors say after I've found out for myself. If the way he kisses is any indication, his skill in bed is like the Scottish Highlands: mere words cannot begin to capture the glorious reality." I gave her a Big Pervy Grin. "You know that's why I'm actually marrying him. All that stuff about love was just a cover story."

"So you're pulling a Liz, are you?" She shook her finger at me. "Shame on you, Olivia Masters, for settling!"

" 'Scuse me? I am _not_ pulling a Liz Patterson and selling out and settling! As non-romantic as my reasons might be, like Hel I'm settling. Rich, gorgeous, a fabulous body, intelligent, great smile, sense of humor, it's a given the sex won't suck, he's said more than once he loves me…how, exactly, is that settling? I call it grabbing a good thing when I had the chance. Oh! Operation: Big Carat has begun." I held out my left hand. "Think it's big enough?"

"Holy moley! That thing is _huge_! It's worse than J. Lo's and that's saying something. I love it. Let me see your real ring before Lizard and Ellyphant get here."

"Be nice," I chided, pulling the chain out from under my shirt. It's the middle ring, the sapphire one."

She didn't say anything for a long moment. "What are those smaller stones on each side of the sapphire?"

"Blue diamonds."

"_Blue_ diamonds?" She raised her eyes, mouth slightly open from surprise. "Do you have any idea how expensive those are?"

"I have an idea, and if you want to lecture someone on needlessly spending more than you need to, take it up with Kyle because they were his idea. He designed the ring and had it custom made."

"You're shitting me!"

I shook my head. "I'm totally serious. I was just as floored as you when he told me. More like casually mentioned it when I asked where he bought it. Casually, as if it's not a big deal, and after I finished thanking him for that, he tells me he took the liberty of designing the wedding bands as well. Can you believe his nerve, swooping in and stealing all the fun of ring shopping from me? So unfair!" I winked and, smiling, stuck out my tongue. "Yes, I know I'm ridiculously lucky and blessed and I most definitely appreciate him, not to mention being absolutely, totally, and completely in love with him. Did you see the design engraved on the band and how the stones are incorporated into it? Floored me when I took a good look at it, and he says the wedding bands are going to be engraved with the same design. I can't wait to see them."

"Neither can I." She hugged me, refraining from crushing my organs that time. "Good things definitely come to those who wait."

"Are you saying I'm old to be getting married?" I scowled and put my hands on my hips. "Is this more of that old maid, spinster stuff? Begone, you spewer of old-fashioned, repressive ideas! Cease channeling Elly Patterson!"

"Stop acting like Liz with being paranoid everything's an insult," she retorted huffily.

"Okay, if you insist." I smiled brightly. "I joked with an old friend that if good things come to those who wait then I'd end up marrying Prince William, but I infinitely prefer Kyle. I'm not big on that whole 'broadcast the Royal Family's bowel movements' thing the media has going on, know what I mean?" I wrinkled my nose. "Come on, people, let them have some privacy! Not everything is the public's business."

"Your guy's also better looking and has a better body. He does! Stop looking at me like that! I saw the pics on his website, remember? You posted them for the world to see, so don't get mad because I looked."

"The shirtless ones are ten years old. Everything looks better when you're thirty-two."

"Whatever. He's still hot. Regina and Nancy just came in. I told Regina about Operation: Big Carat, so she has to see that godawful thing you're wearing." She hurried away, loudly greeting our cousin on the other side of the room.

When Erica arrived, Sarah dragged her over to where I was standing as well so she could see my obnoxiously big ring, gag over how bad it was, and then goggle at the fabulousness that was my real engagement ring. We weren't telling any of the adults about Operation: Big Carat, so I gave the ugly ring to Sarah when my mom's cousins started coming over and congratulating me and telling me how much I was going to like my gifts.

Since both Kyle and I had both been living on our own, we didn't need any of the usual stuff brides got at showers for setting up a household, so Aunt Harriet had gotten my bra and underwear sizes and told everyone to bring gifts that would help us with starting a family. I'd turned deep red when she told me she'd put the comment 'the more fun, the better' at the bottom of the invite. I'd asked my mom if she'd mind skipping this one because, honestly, who wants to talk about their sex life in front of their mother? Thankfully, Mom shared my sentiments and was quite happy to spend her Saturday afternoon doing something else.

I wasn't entirely sure Erica, seventeen, should be at the bridal shower, but her mom, Katie, had obviously thought it was fine. Katie had plenty of sense and smarts and she probably knew what everyone had gotten me, so maybe the gifts from the younger cousins were tamer than I'd suspected, or maybe they'd give me the raunchy stuff when Erica wasn't around.

Elly, Liz, and April were the last to arrive.

I hurried over to Sarah before the Pattersons saw me to get my showpiece.

"Who's getting pictures of Liz's face?" I whispered as I slid the ring on.

"Regina. Telephoto lens." I met Sarah's eyes and we both grinned. "It's digital, so we'll have the pics tonight."

"Fabulous! Let's go show Liz what a man who's _really_ in love buys his fiancée, shall we?" I held out my arm to her.

"We shall." She took my arm. "Oh, I need to let Regina know to get her camera ready. Walk with me."

"Olivia!" Elly's irritating voice carried clearly across the room. "Congratulations!"

I pasted on a smile and gave her a wave. "Get Regina's attention. Pattersons approaching fast."

Sarah practically dragged me the rest of the way to where Regina was and found Regina was ready, having been alerted by Elly's squawking. Operation: Big Carat was unfolding without a hitch. Next up was baiting the enemy and luring them to a battle location that favored our forces, or, in plan English, making sure Liz, Elly, Sarah, and I were standing just right so Regina could get a clear shot. April, unfortunately, would be collateral damage but, hopefully, it wouldn't end up being serious and she'd be good-humored about it when we told her the truth later. She wasn't in denial about Liz's faults and I'd gathered from her emails in recent months Liz was really becoming quite the Bridezilla and Elly a Momzilla, and April was feeling like she couldn't even blink anymore without someone getting on her case about it.

"Olivia! How fabulous you're finally getting married!" Elly gushed, sweeping me into a big hug. "We'd begun to think you'd never have a ring on your finger!"

"Oh, ye of little faith," I said lightly. "I knew the right one was worth waiting for and I'd end up hating myself, my husband, and the whole marriage if I settled and married the first guy who showed any interest just for the sake of being married."

"Definitely," Elly agreed. "You don't want to be too picky, though, or you'll end up all alone."

"I knew everything would work out exactly the way God wanted it to in His timing." I lifted up my left hand so the Pattersons could boggle at my Ring of Hugeness.

"Wow, it's huge!" April exclaimed. "How much did it cost?"

"April, that's rude!" Elly castigated. "Something like this must have cost a fortune!"

"No doubt, but when you're talking about an engagement ring, what's money when you're letting the world know how much your man loves you? The bigger the stone, the bigger the love. How big is yours, Liz? Two carats?" I smiled sweetly.

"Not quite," Liz said, looking uncomfortable, and held up her left hand.

I took her fingers and pretended to examine it. "Definitely not even close." I looked up at met her eyes. "It's kind of small, but if that's all he could afford and you like it, what does it matter if people might get the idea Anthony's too poor to get anything better, or that maybe the size means he didn't get bigger because he doesn't love you that much?" To my pleasure, I saw Liz glance down at her left hand with uncertainty.

The Pissing Contest of the Rings came to a swift end after The Stoning. Liz gave some cock-and-bull story about how she'd told Anthony she'd rather a smaller stone before deciding she really needed a cup of punch to cool her burning cheeks. Elly fawned over my impressive display of costume jewelry a bit more and then went over to bother my mom's cousins.

"Three words: you've been served," I quipped Sarah when the Pattersons were out of hearing range. "Hopefully, she'll get a clue."

"More impossible things have happened. Good luck penetrating her victim mentality. She probably only remembers last summer as her being attacked for no reason at all."

I grimaced. "No doubt. Is it wrong to hope she and Blandthony the Boring never manage to spawn? It's bad enough Mike's spawned and his kids look to be growing up even more dysfunctional than him and Liz. I don't even want to think about what would happen if there were Lizthony clones making the world a more annoying place."

"Wishing a painful death on them, while understandable, would be wrong. Wanting to spare the world the agony of even more dysfunctional Patterson spawn is not. Oh, speaking of kids, Jim and I are thinking of starting a family."

"Most cool!" I gave her a hug. "Trying for a baby is a win—win situation. You get pregnant, you had fun. You don't, you had fun and, guess what, you get to keep having fun." We both laughed. "I think he'll be a great father. He's great with Dave and Claire's girls. You got yourself a good man, too, even if he is only a mechanic." I laughed when she lightly slugged my arm.

Regina walked up, grinning like a Jack O' Lantern.

"You're going to love what I got." She pulled up what was stored on the memory card and showed us fabulous close-ups of Elly and Liz's faces and wider shots of the Pattersons going gaga over the bling and shots of them as they looked closely at my ring.

"You're right, these are great, Regina. You're a fabulous photographer." An idea occurred to me. "How'd you like to take pics of my wedding?"

Her eyes got big. "Really? What about a professional?"

"Yes, really, and you're just as good as someone who charges through the nose. I love all of your work I've seen and I know you'd do a fabulous job and everyone—or almost everyone there will know you so it'll probably be easier to get good candids and casual shots and get people to line up for portraits and posed things. It would also give you plenty for your portfolio and when people see how fabulous our wedding photos are you'll be able to start your career as a photographer with people already talking about how awesome you are. If you're interested, email me and let me know how much you feel your time and talent is worth."

"Okay." Regina still seemed kind of blown away by my offer. "Thanks."

"Of course."

April walked over to the three of us, looking a bit uncertain.

"Liz is really upset right now. She's in the hall with Mom, crying about how you trashed Anthony and implied he couldn't provide for her and that her ring is pathetic and cheap."

Sarah and I looked at one another.

"Déjà vu all over again," I remarked dryly. To April, I said, "What your sister is experiencing right now is exactly what she inflicted on Sarah last year, so you'll have to excuse us if we aren't broken up over it." A little worm of guilt gnawed at my gut, but I tried to ignore it. Turnabout was fair play—and weren't we supposed to turn the other cheek and forgive as we'd been forgiven? 'Stupid conscience,' I thought sourly. It would have to remind me what Jesus would do.

"Excuse me for a minute," I said. "I have to talk to Liz."

"She doesn't want to talk to you." April's expression darkened.

"Tough. We all have to do things in life we don't want to."

In the hall, Liz was sobbing dramatically while Elly held her and murmured platitudes. 'Oh, hell's bells on little white mice, she's acting like I killed her cat.' She was making sucking up to apologize for going overboard harder than it should have been.

"Liz," I said as I walked toward the Patterson women. "April says we hurt your feelings."

"Go away!" she wailed. "What are you going to do, insult me more?"

'Don't tempt me.' "No, actually, I was going to apologize if we made you think that we were implying Anthony can't provide for you and that you think we think your ring is cheap."

She looked up a bit from her mother's shoulder.

"Not everyone has as much money as you. Don't treat everyone else like garbage just because you're rich."

"No one said Anthony isn't a good provider, Liz."

"Yes you did! You went on and on about how fabulous your ring was and how mine is small and pathetic and that people think Anthony doesn't love me!" That set off a fresh round of sobbing.

"That was very petty of you, Olivia," Elly said self-righteously. "Insulting Liz and Anthony like that."

"Elly, gem size and providing for your family are two different things. If Liz thinks my saying her stone is smaller is the same as accusing Anthony of not providing for his family, that's her problem, not mine. I came out to apologize, but I can see now that the only insults Liz has suffered are largely self-inflicted and she refuses to accept any apology for those which might be legitimate." I turned on my heel and returned to the bridal shower.

"What's going on?" Katie asked. "Why's Liz crying?"

"She thinks that I was implying because Liz's diamond isn't a huge thing that Anthony's not a good provider and doesn't love her. I tried to explain to her that's not what we meant, but you know how she is."

Katie gave a curt nod. "I heard her wailing about how you had a big, fancy rings and were rubbing her nose in it and insulting her ring. What's all of that? You two don't—what the heck is that you're wearing?" She studied the monstrosity on my left hand.

"What Liz thinks is my engagement ring. She treated Sarah's ring last year like a small diamond was pathetic and she was going on about how she had to have a big enough diamond so people didn't think Anthony didn't love her and that he was poor. I borrowed some costume jewelry from a friend so I could sport some bling today." I pursed my lips. "I should've known any attempt at an object lesson would go in one ear and out the other with her. She's never at fault, after all."

"You know Liz; always the victim," Katie said dryly. "Just like her mother. April's the only decent one."

"Amen. Speaking of her, Sarah and I were planning on telling her the truth, so I should go find both of them."

Sarah, it seems, beat me to it because she, Regina, and April were snickering and shooting amused glances at the pathetic-looking figures just outside the open door. I took off the monstrosity and shoved it into my pocket. Lord but it was good to be rid of that thing!

"You two are horrible, making my sister feel like her ring is ugly and small!" April chided when I reached her and my cousins. "It's ugly and _big_. I can't believe she likes it."

"To each, their own. There are others who like something tacky or they wouldn't be selling rings like that. We actually have taste, so you'll hear no arguments here." I pulled the chain out from under my shirt again. "The middle one is my actual engagement ring. I keep it on a chain because I can't stand to wear rings. I always end up taking them off and leaving them places."

"It's beautiful! What are the two small blue stones?"

"Blue diamonds. Rather rare. You could probably feed an African nation for what they cost. Kyle designed the ring himself."

"So he really is rich." April let go of my ring and regarded me with a slightly awed expression. "That's no joke."

"He's not filthy rich, but he's definitely not in danger of going broke anytime soon." I tucked the rings back under my shirt. "You can't judge how much a guy has by what he spends on an engagement ring. That's a definite exception to the rule and something they save up for. Whatever the guy buys, it's not the size of the stone that matters. If Sarah hasn't told you about Jim and given you the list of reasons he's the best guy in the world, ask her to. Her diamond is small. The stones in mine aren't large, either, but I could go on at least as long as Sarah about why Kyle is fabulous and beats Jim out for best guy in the world. We've agreed to disagree on that." I gave Sarah a smile, which she returned. "Princess Di had a large sapphire and diamonds around it and her hubby cheated on her and they ended up divorced and miserable. Size of the wedding doesn't mean squat, either, other than how much you spent on a day most people won't remember half of in a few month's time."

"But he's still rich or he wouldn't have been able to get the blue diamonds."

"Not as rich as you think, though you have to be making the dough to afford to live in Manhattan, so he probably is by your standards."

Aunt Harriet calling for everyone to come gather in a circle for games and door prizes curtailed any further discussions about Kyle's relative wealth and how my ring was an indicator of it. Sarah had teased me with allusions to what games Aunt Harriet had planned and I was a bit nervous about how much of it would revolve around making me blush and act/look foolish.

An hour later, I'd been attired in a toilet paper wedding ensemble, had to pack a suitcase blindfolded, played Pin the Bouquet on the Bride, and laughed my butt off at wedding-themed Mad Libs. Elly and Liz, who was all red and blotchy, came in during the Mad Libs, which were the last thing we did before The Gifting.

To try and soothe ruffled feathers, the Pattersons' gift was the first one I opened. The card was very nice and not nauseatingly loaded with glurge, hearts, doves, or any of the other usual wedding stuff cards were loaded with, which I hoped was an indication of the quality of the gift.

I should've known better than to hope. These were the Pattersons, who came off as more frigid than Frosty the Snowman. If only April had been allowed to buy my gift, it probably would've been good (as much as something from an eighteen-year-old who'd hardly reached second base would be). That would've required Elly to surrender control, so, of course, it didn't happen and I had to fake being thrilled about a high-necked, long-sleeved cotton nightgown with a delicate pattern of blue and pink flowers on it. I wasn't big on the style but the pattern wasn't too bad and the fabric was deliciously soft, and if I'd received it as a gift somewhere the guests hadn't been told to bring stuff that was racy, saucy, and raunchy the smile would've been more genuine, but a G-rated nightgown at a party with a hard R rating…rather disappointing. On the bright side, with that gift out of the way it could only get better, and it did.

I entertained everyone with the way I blushed redder and redder with each successive gift and Nancy kept track of how many times I buried my face in my hands after seeing what I'd been given. In return for giving the ladies something to laugh at, I ended up with some really nice lingerie, a selection of chocolate body paints, an X-rated card game, a gift certificate to one of the local adult bookstores, and _A Year of Sexual Positions_ from Nancy, who told me quietly not to hold it up to show everyone because of Erica and April; she'd already told everyone what it was. I debated offering to lend it to Liz, but decided she'd only take it to mean I didn't think she and Anthony had a sex life and become even more offended so I spared myself the berating I was bound to receive. No good deed went unpunished. Oye!

That was the official end of things but, like most hen parties, people lingered to chat and natter on and eat munchies and…well, be women.

"What was that book you got?" Liz asked me as I was gathering up my new riches.

I handed it to her. "I'm pretty sure we won't need it, but I'd rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it."

"This is pretty racy stuff!" Liz remarked as she turned the pages. "I don't know why you'd need a book like this. I don't know why anyone would even want a book like this. It's horrid!" She handed it back to me.

"Because some people enjoy variety in their sex life and different positions allow you and your partner to be pleasured in different ways and it makes your sex life more enjoyable. Kyle…has been around the block several times so I'm quite sure most of what's in the book wouldn't be new to him."

"He's gone roadside?" Liz looked horrified.

"That's in the past. He cleaned up his act about five or six years ago."

"You don't care that he's slept with other women? That doesn't bother you?"

"I've accepted and made peace with his past and we've talked about it." I put the book in with the red teddy Todd's wife, Lisa, had given me. "What's done is done. What matters is who he is now and how he's living his life now."

"I could never settle for someone like that. I thought you'd have higher standards than to consider someone who slept around."

I silently counted to twenty before speaking.

"All of us have done things in the past we regret. No one is perfect. Kyle got his life together six years ago and has been living a very pure, upright life. He's changed and become a better person for it. He's not a manwhore now, so I'm hardly settling for someone devoid of morals. I'm marrying a man who lives a chaste life and is highly respected by all who know him and lives his faith in Christ as best he can. I'm not settling or lowering my standards in the least."

She sniffed. "Well, I shouldn't be surprised, considering that you didn't see anything wrong with all the trashy things you were given today. Honestly, I thought our family had better taste than that, to encourage you to dress like a tart and a harlot and to play dirty games. Disgusting."

"To each their own, Liz. We'll be married and there's no sin in sex with your spouse, nor is there sin in wanting to look attractive to your spouse. Guys like it when ladies look sexy."

"I've never heard Anthony complain."

'Have you even bothered to listen?' "Liz, in your marriage, if you want a static sex life and granny gowns and that works for you, knock yourself out. That's you and Anthony. If Kyle and I want more variety and more spice, that's between him and I." I met her eyes. "Just because something isn't to your liking, that doesn't automatically mean it's wrong or bad. You can also spare me your moralistic, pious blather about what a Good Christian Woman would or would not do. All you know are the stereotypes and prejudices and half-baked garbage that floats around in society and what little you observe on Christmas and Easter. You're as fit to dictate to me about how I live as I am to dictate to you about how you run your classroom."

"I've been married for several years, so I do know what I'm talking about there. More than you would."

"Know where your G spot is?"

"I don't even know what a G spot is."

"When was the last time you told Anthony you loved him, and when did he tell you he loves you?"

"Not sure. Why?"

"When was the last time you and Anthony sat down and talked, openly and honestly, about what was on your minds and things that were bothering you?"

"I don't know. We don't need to do that kind of thing. We understand each other too well to need to do that."

I smiled sadly. "Just because you have a ring on your finger, it doesn't mean you're an expert, or that you even know what you're doing. I take my advice and guidance from those whose marriages had remained strong through struggles and difficulties and whatever else life throws their way, and I learn from their mistakes and successes. Not walking the path doesn't mean you don't have a good idea of what dangers to look out for and the best way to avoid overexerting yourself. If you'll excuse me, I have to leave to meet up with some friends for dinner."

"Change of plans," a familiar voice said from the doorway. "I told your little friends you had more important things to do tonight than gossip and eat too much chocolate with them."

I quickly fought down the urge to grin, scowling instead. "Like what? Washing my hair? Cleaning my bellybutton?" I crossed my arms over my chest. "Spending time with _you_? Your presumption is quite galling. What makes you think I'd want to spend even a moment more time with you than I absolutely have to?"

Liz looked back and forth between Kyle and me; clearly baffled by my apparent hostility toward a man she'd never seen before.

"Who _is_ that?" Liz asked in a low voice.

"My fiancée." I grinned like I was the luckiest woman in the world—which I was. "Gorgeous, isn't he?" Without waiting for an answer, I hurried over to him.

"You said you were busy this weekend," I told him archly, taking his hand.

"I am." He put his free arm around me, resting his hand on my hip. "I'm busy coming up to surprise you and take you and your family to dinner. Your friends, by the way, agree that I'm _much_ more important than gossip and eating too much chocolate." He smiled in the way that never failed to turn my knees and insides to jelly, and then kissed me quite thoroughly, turning my entire brain to lukewarm mush.

The kiss ended much, much, much too soon for my liking.

"Okay, you convinced me," I said when my brain reformed and I could speak coherently again. "You're definitely more important that gossip and chocolate. Or at least the gossip. I still want the chocolate."

"As you wish." He gave me another quick kiss. "Your aunts and cousins look very curious to know who the handsome man you've been kissing is."

I looked around. "What handsome man? I only see you. Oh, you were talking about yourself." He gave me a sour look and I grinned. "Come, meet most of the ladies on my mom's side of the family. It's time to make those who thought I was exaggerating eat their words."

Katie and Aunt Harriet stole Kyle away from me after I introduced him to everyone.

"You lucky, lucky bitch," Sarah said, sidling up to me, a cup of punch in her hand. "You weren't kidding when you said he was sex on legs. Damn, he's got a fine ass!"

"Eyes _off_ my fiancée's ass, woman!" I put my hand over her eyes. "You have Jim. Go oogle his ass."

She pushed my hand down. "Kyle's is much nicer. Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to touch, just look. A lot."

"I'm telling Jim you said that," I groused. "I'm telling him you couldn't take your eyes off Kyle's bum."

Sarah shrugged. "He won't care. He knows I'm an ass girl and he knows I only admire the scenery. When I married Jim, I meant it when I said 'forsaking all others'."

"Glad to hear it. You still need to stop oogling my fiancée." I swatted her arm lightly. "So do Regina and April—and—ohmy—that is just—" I grabbed Sarah's arm. "Look at Liz and tell me that is not pathetic."

"Ohmygod, why doesn't she just start saying 'hubba, hubba, hubba?'" Disgust dripped from every word.

"Sarah, would you mind walking with me? I feel the need to tell Liz to stop staring before I claw her eyes out and, seeing as her gauche behavior has made me extremely jealous and ill-tempered, I'd like someone holding onto my arm so I don't actually end up doing it."

"Of course. She's not worth an assault and battery charge."

I didn't care that the ladies in the family were having varying degrees of difficulty taking their eyes off my gorgeous fiancée. Sarah being open about scoping Kyle's butt did bother me a little, but he did have a nice butt, I knew she'd largely been trying to jerk my chain a bit, and I knew she'd limit how much time she spent 'admiring the scenery' out of respect for me and my feelings, not that she was ever as gauche and vulgar as to stare and make no attempt to disguise it, like Liz was, when checking guys out.

Elly was in the bathroom and Liz was so wrapped up in admiring Kyle Sarah and I were able to get right up behind her without her noticing.

"Get your fucking eyes off my fiancée," I snapped, voice hard. "In case you didn't hear, it's really bad taste to oogle someone's fiancée right in front of them, especially when you're married. I'm sure Anthony will _love_ hearing about this when I call him."

Liz whipped around, eyes huge and face deathly pale.

"Olivia. I was just—"

"Don't piss me off any more than you already have. Do you really think you could feed me some line of bullshit and I'd be stupid enough to buy it? Shut up," I said, cutting off Liz when she stupidly started to answer. "You attempt to bullshit me about staring—oogling Kyle, and then you try to give me a bullshit answer when I confront you about thinking I'm stupid enough to buy whatever bullshit excuse you were going to give me. Are you intentionally trying to get your ass kicked, or are you just too damn stupid and lacking sense to grasp that when you're busted, trying to bullshit is only going to make it worse for yourself?" I took a step toward her and she shrank back. "You disgust me. Did you really think no one would notice you oogling my fiancee _right in front of me_? Get your purse and leave. I don't care if you wait for your mom in your car or hitch a ride back to Canada; just leave. When your mom comes back, I'll tell her why you left."

Liz wasted no time grabbing her purse and running from the room. I suspected it had more to do with her fear of me than actually realizing how far over the line she'd stepped.

"You were nicer than I'd have been," Sarah said, giving me a side hug.

"I'm surprised I was that kind. I'm so disgusted and pissed I just want her out of my face. Some bit of sense and reason told me reaming her out would only be a waste of time and breath, so I let her off easy. Besides, you saw her face. She's terrified of me. She'll never look at Kyle again, I'm sure of it. Not that I have any intention of that being a possibility unless it's totally unavoidable, but when it does have to happen, I'm quite sure she'll keep her eyes to herself."

"And here comes Ellyphant," Sarah said under her breath.

"I'm not taking any of her shit, either, and I'm not letting her make April leave."

"I look forward to seeing that."

"Keep your eyes open, then."

The confrontation came a moment later.

"Where's Liz?"

I met her gaze levelly. "She left. More than one person saw her openly oogling my fiancee and making no attempt to hide it, so I told her to leave."

"Liz wouldn't do that! He's a good-looking man. You can't throw a jealous fit every time a woman looks at him."

"If I did that," I said, biting off each word, "I'd have gone off on every single one of my relatives. Unlike you and your daughter, _I_ am not so insecure and possessive and paranoid that I would have a fit because a woman looked at my man. The only women that irritate me are the ones being gauche and impolite about their looking. Of course women are going to look. I'm not stupid. I don't worry that Kyle might find some other woman he likes more and leave me because if he wanted another woman, he'd be with her, not me. That you think I'd have a fit over every woman who glances at him says far more about you than me. How pathetic you'd still be so insecure after decades of marriage you don't even trust your own husband to be faithful. I'd be insulted by your insinuations but I pity you far too much to be upset, but that's neither here nor there. Liz left because of her offensive behavior. I suspect she's waiting in your car for you."

"So you're making April and me leave, too?" she said shrilly.

"Not at all. The party's pretty much over so you'd be leaving soon, anyway, but it's your choice when you leave. April's been invited to join some of us for dinner tonight and she's said she'd love to come, so she'll be staying with my parents and me tonight and we'll make sure she gets home safely tomorrow. Thanks for coming and thanks for the nightgown. It feels like it will be very comfortable. Have a safe drive home."

I turned and discovered everyone was watching us—including Kyle. Face flaming, I walked over to him with as much dignity as I could muster.

"Remind me never to get you mad," Kyle said dryly, putting an arm around me.

"Don't get me mad, but if you didn't know that yet you haven't been paying attention." I leaned against him. "I honestly thought she had more class than that."

"Not everyone can be as perfect as you." He put an arm around my shoulders.

"Sad, but true. Not everyone has such great taste in men, either. Her husband is rather bland in looks and personality. Who wouldn't want to feast on prime rib and homemade mashed potatoes after a steady diet of Ramen noodles and skim milk? She could've been more discreet about it, though. Anyway, enough about her. Talking about food has made me hungry, so where are we going for dinner tonight?"


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: For those who know automobiles, I've chosen to ignore one bit about the realities of modern automobile engineering later in the chapter because, quite frankly, reality—if what my dad told me is right—would've totally taken the fun out of what I wanted to write. Hopefully, my reason will make sense and you'll agree that ignoring reality for a moment is to the story's benefit._

**Olivia's Parents' House, Thanksgiving 2008**

"Who is it?" Kyle pushed me aside and looked through the peephole. "Who's that?"

"Chris," I said flatly. "The guy I didn't want to talk to at Java's last night." I turned around and slouched back against the doorframe. "What the heck is he doing, showing up on _Thanksgiving_, of all days? He can't have been in the States very long if he isn't aware today is a Very Big Holiday people spend with family and friends and he'd be interrupting, just showing up out of the blue. How'd he know where to find me, anyway? It's not like I ever gave him my parents' address and I was living in Michigan the last time I talked to him." I looked over at Kyle.

"Did you ever tell him where you were from?"

I nodded. "Not often, and I don't remember ever saying more than I was from Rochester, NY. If he did try to look me up here, he'd have found the listing for my old apartment in the city that was disconnected when I moved last month. I never told him my parents' names, so why'd he show up here? If he went through the phone book calling people, my parents definitely would've told me if an English guy called looking for me. Oh, go away!" I muttered when the doorbell rang for a second time.

"You'd better answer the door and talk to him. He knows there's someone here because he would've seen your car in the drive when he showed up, so I doubt he's going to go away anytime soon or that he wouldn't try again another time."

"But I don't want to!" I whinged softly. "Do I have to?"

"If you want him to get the message to go away and leave you alone, yes." He took my hands and pulled me onto my feet. "If he gets too annoying, just tell him you have to get back to your Thanksgiving activities and slam the door in his face."

"Excellent idea. Or you can beat him down for me." With a sigh, I reached over to turn on the front porch light and opened the door.

"Oh, good, you are here," Chris said, clearly relieved. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"What do you want?" I asked, arms crossed tightly across my chest. "I thought I made it clear last night I'm not interested in seeing or talking to you."

His hopeful expression fell a bit. "I wasn't expecting to see you, either. I know it was a shock after so long and I don't blame you for being upset."

"But you obviously put a lot of time and effort into trying to find me in spite of knowing I didn't want to see you. That's a lot to do in twenty-four hours."

"I have been trying to find you longer than that. I started trying to find you when I came to RIT several years ago to work on a graduate degree."

I blinked and swallowed hard, surprised. "You're at RIT? Why?"

"I lost my job because I did not have enough education, so I decided to go back to university to get it and while looking for schools I found RIT and remembered you said you were from Rochester. I wanted to try to find you."

"Why? Because you felt bad for dumping me flat and wanted to see I was doing fine to soothe your guilty conscience? To see if you could talk me into giving it one more try because you hadn't had success finding someone who could pull up an entire life and move in less than two months? If you want your conscience soothed, I am doing fine. At least in regards to being dumped by you. I cried, it hurt, life moved on. Such is the way of things with summer romances. My mistake was thinking it would last. So, anything else?"

"That's not it. I never doubted you'd move on and get over me and live your life. I wanted to find you to apologize and ask if we could be friends. Is that your boyfriend?" Kyle had moved up closer behind me and put his hand on my shoulder, catching Chris' attention.

I smiled wryly. "He's a boy—well, more like a man, and he's a friend, so, yes, you could say he's my boyfriend, but that's neither here nor there. You're sorry for being insensitive and impatient and want to be friends. Apology accepted and if you want to be friends, it'll have to be long distance because I moved to New York City last month. I'm only in town for the holiday. I go back tomorrow. Your timing to try to find me is horrible. Should've tried sooner."

"I told you, I've been looking since I arrived."

I quirked an eyebrow and regarded him coolly. "I've been listed in the phone book under my own name for the past several years, Chris. You only needed to have looked, and I haven't heard anything from any of my relatives about an English bloke calling to find out if they knew me. If you've been looking, you haven't been trying very hard. My email address is still the same, so feel free to drop me a note sometime if you want. Waverunner12 at juno dot com. Anything else?"

"No, not really. Are your parents doing well?"

"Well enough. Your family?"

"Doing well also. Are you enjoying New York City?"

"Immensely. Love my job working stage crew, love hanging out with my friends, love having a life again. How's RIT? When do you graduate?"

"Doing well. I graduate next May."

"Congrats. Well, I'll talk to you later. Have a good night." I shut the door and fell back against Kyle. "I can't believe I told him to email me. I'm going soft."

Kyle chuckled. "Hardly. Going soft would be giving him a hug and your phone number and telling him to call you later. If he had any ideas of being able to pick up where he dropped things, he won't now. He probably considers he did well getting your email address, or that's what he'll be thinking if he has any sense."

"If he wanted to get in touch with me bad enough to spend the last day trying to find me, I'd have to be a terrible wretch not to at least humor him and he did admit he made a mistake. If he'd acted like he was doing me a favor by getting in touch with me, _then_ I'd have slammed the door in his face after telling him to sod off." I blew a raspberry at the closed door. "We'll see what happens. If he's changed, I'll definitely have to come pay him a visit at some point and we can get back to watching Blackadder and Monty Python. I'm sure he brought his DVDs with him and we had way too much fun watching them when I was in the UK." I sighed happily. "I really do miss that. I'd love to go pubbing again, too, but there's nothing to be done for that in the States. Still haven't found a pub this side of the Pond that serves good cider, and some even serve American excuses for beer. No _real_ pub would ever serve such inferior product."

"Thank God for specialty beer stores, then, and when you get back to the UK someday, you can go pubbing and drink yourself under the table with all the good cider available."

"And I'll take you along so you can drag me back home after I pass out." I laughed. "I'm feeling lazy. Push me back up onto my feet. I said onto my feet, not into the door at top speed!" I stuck my hands out and caught myself against the door before I hit the solid oak panel. "If I broke my nose, I'd sue you for the medical bills. That's no way to treat a friend!"

"You were barely moving so you'd only have bumped your nose, and you're the one who told me to push you. It's not my fault if you're lazy."

"I wasn't being serious, Kyle." What was his problem? There'd been a sharp note underneath the light tone that left me feeling chastened. I turned around. "What's wrong? You sound cranky. Stomach ache from eating too much?"

"I'm fine."

"You sound irritated. Wait a minute…you're jealous!" I laughed and clapped my hands together. "You're jealous I said I might want to visit him and watch Blackadder and go pubbing with him. Tsk, tsk. I do the same things with you and Bri and other guy friends, more or less. He was a fun guy to hang out with and we got on well. As long as he doesn't expect more than a casual, platonic relationship, not a chance I'm going to pass up the chance to reconnect with someone whose company I enjoyed." Kyle, jealous. Imagine that. Maybe that would light a fire under him and get things moving in the right (into my arms) direction.

"Hate to shatter your delusions, but I am _not_ jealous." The look he gave me was far too knowing for my liking and I felt myself blush. "What I am is wary of a guy who'd apparently lie about having tried for several years to find an old flame under the pretenses of apologizing and wanting to be friends."

"Maybe when he saw me he suddenly realized he's still madly in love with me and can't live without me. Stranger things have happened. Anyway, let's go. Mira makes the most fabulous apple pie on the planet." You didn't get peevish with someone when you were worried about them. At least, not unless there was more going on than just concern.

Growing up in Western New York, you get used to seeing the first snow sometime in late October, early November. Mid-October only arouses a grimace and mutterings about how winter is coming too #!&#! early but it's Western New York and what else was new. I didn't mind snow, except it meant it cold weather had arrived and it was time to bundle up and four months of getting up earlier so you'd have time to scrape and brush the car off before leaving for work. Cold, dark mornings and snow inside the wrists of your gloves and tops of your boots and a frozen lump for a nose. Welcome to Western New York.

Then there was New York City. It was consistently at least five degrees warmer, on average, than Rochester and we still hadn't seen even a threat of snow by Thanksgiving. For a girl who dislikes colder weather, New York weather was a definite mark in the 'Good Things' column.

Waking up to several inches of the white stuff on the ground on November 28 was a chilly reminder of how good I had it in New York. It didn't occur to me until I looked out the window and saw the yard and cars covered with snow I'd managed to escape that kind of cold snap as long as I had. I'd soon be back to a snow-less New York so, comforted by that thought, I decided it really wasn't so bad and conveniently forgot why a world blanketed in white could ever be anything but beautiful and charming.

After getting dressed and scarfing a quick breakfast, I rang Bri.

"Let's go walking," I said excitedly when he answered the phone. "I know just the place. Remember the Thousand Acre Swamp? You know, just up the road a mile or two. We can go up there and walk and it'll be beautiful and if we take birdseed, which my mom has, the chickadees will fly down and eat right from our hands and—"

"Who are you and what have you done with Olivia the Snow Grouch?"

"Living in New York has made the snow much more tolerable because now I won't have to live with it all winter and it is beautiful. This time of year, Felicity won't have to worry about coming across any copperheads or alligators, so I'm sure she'd enjoy it."

I still remembered telling her about the Thousand Acre Swamp, where I loved to go walking and hiking, while she was driving me back to Delhi after Bri and Kyle left on tour and the way she'd gone pale and wide-eyed and asked, in a nervous voice, "What about alligators and rattlesnakes?"

"What about them? They don't give any problems unless you decided to jump in and go swimming with them without asking permission first." Felicity had grown even paler and it was only through enormous force of effort I hadn't started laughing so hard I couldn't breathe. Did Bri, I wondered, have any idea just how much of a city girl Felicity was?

"I wasn't serious," I told her. "I'm sorry; I thought you'd know I was joking about going swimming. Seriously, there's only a small area of swamp in the thousand acres and as long as you stay on the trails and bridges in that area you're fine. There aren't any alligators this far north, either, and we don't have rattlesnakes, we have copperheads. Not that I've ever seen any," I added hastily when Felicity's newly-returned color started to fade again. "Like I said, as long as you stick close to the trails, you're fine."

On the other end of the phone, I heard Bri cough. "Copperheads and alligators?"

I filled him in on Felicity's ignorance of nature. "All them dangerous creatures who don't like us swimming with them are frozen this time of year, so your wife can be sure of her safety."

"It's not her fault she grew up in the city!"

"I never said it was. I'll have you know I never laughed about it in front of her, and I never told her about my All-County Cow Tipping Champion 1998 trophy, either. That would've been way, way too easy and you'd have kicked my butt first chance you had if you ever found out." BSing people about how cow tipping was more popular than football in Delaware County, of which Delhi was the county seat, had been a guilty pleasure of mine while I was going to school there and for a few years afterward.

Cow tipping, as everyone familiar with cows knew, is impossible because dairy cattle don't sleep standing up. Never one to let pesky feelings of guilt over playing on someone's ignorance get in the way of a good joke, I took great joy in telling people back home about how each college in the rural areas of New York had a cow tipping team and, just like with sports in the more urban areas, there were sectional competitions and All-County and All-State and the games were played at night, for obvious reasons. I said I'd made the starting lineup on the Vet Sci department's cow tipping team in the fall of my freshman year and, of course, the Vet Sci department trounced every other team on campus and we moved on to play against other Southertier schools and nearly made it to States, but SUNY Ogdensburg from up by the Canadian border beat us by one cow in the last game of the semi-finals both years. On the occasions people asked if I had my All-County trophies displayed, I told them I had them packed away so they stayed nice. Thankfully, when I let people in on the truth they had a sense of humor about it and didn't hold it against me (at least, that's what they said). I did get an All-County Team Cow Tipping shirt in 2002 from a catalog of goofy t-shirts, and I usually wore it with a pair of boxers covered with Holsteins that resembled Swiss cheese.

"Those are weird," my mom had told me. "Why do the cows look so strange?"

"What?" I looked down at my lap area. "They're holey cows."

"Holey—oh! I get it!" She laughed. "They're still weird."

My friends, thankfully, were as warped as I was and loved them, and I told everyone how I'd gotten people believing I'd been a big star of a little-known but rapidly-growing-in-popularity sport. Felicity and Kyle loved the joke and were very glad to never have been victims.

Back in the present, Bri assured me I'd made a very wise choice not to feed Felicity a line.

"Which is why I didn't do it, dear. She was the one brought up the snakes and 'gators, however, and I was honest when she didn't realize I was joking about swimming with them. I was also very nice and didn't laugh when she got off the Thruway at Kingston and told me to drive because she was afraid of all the deer that you said jumped out into the road in front of you while you were driving. To settle her nerves, I told her it was the wrong time of year and it only happened at night."

"She asked me about that earlier; if you and Kyle would be okay driving after dark with all the deer that ran into the road."

"So what'd you tell her?" I grabbed a nearby towel and held it over my mouth to muffle my laughter.

"It was the wrong time of year. Which it is."

"You're losing your edge, Bri. It _is_ that time of year, but don't tell her that. She'll probably insist everyone wear helmets and padding for the drive to the airport tomorrow. Anyway, I'll be by in an hour to pick the three of you up and we can go up to the Swamp. I'll make sure to attach the cow catcher to the front of the car to plow any deer that jump into the road out of the way."

"Ha ha ha, Olivia. Make it two hours. Kyle's not up yet and you know how long it takes him to get going."

I sighed. "Very true. You start the coffee. I'll be over with a drip set and catheter to start him on IV caffeine."

As further proof miracles do happen, Kyle was up, dressed, and fairly coherent after only half a mug of coffee when I arrived.

"I had no idea you were so eager to go tramping in the snow and cold," I teased, dropping down onto to rec room sofa next to him. "If you think Central Park is wild and untamed and full of nature, you ain't seen nothin yet, so prepare yourself."

"I've lived where a thousand acres of trees and critters is considered nothing, so I think I can handle this little postage stamp bit of nature." He took a long swallow of his black coffee.

"Oh, really? And where would that be?"

"Iowa, among other places."

"Iowa? When did you live in Iowa?" I shifted so I was facing him.

"I grew up there."

"Really? I thought you said you were an Army brat."

"Did I?" He shrugged, not looking at me. "Grew up in Iowa. Pa was third-generation farmer. Grew corn and soybeans, mostly. Raised our own cows and pigs for meat." He drained his mug. "'Scuse me. Need more." He shoved the mug in my face for a moment as he stood up. "Still need to finish waking up."

'Must be why he's so talkative,' I mused silently. I'd have to catch him more often before he had his coffee. That or threaten not to let him have any until he told me what I wanted to know. I'd have to make sure that wasn't considered abuse first, though. Caffeine addicts like Kyle might argue it was not only abuse, but also that if they were POWs it would violate the Geneva Conventions' prohibitions on torture and cruel and unusual treatment. Wussies.

I tried to get more out of Kyle about his family but the caffeine had kicked in enough by the time he got back from the kitchen he was his usual closed-off self. As a rule, I accepted (read: had resigned myself to) the fact that the only things guys tended to get loquacious about were sports and cars, and that "Tell me how you feel" evoked the same kinds of panic and fear in men as "Strip naked and stand in Times Square at noon" would for a woman. I respected the differences between the genders (which clearly showed men were the messed-up ones) and didn't push guys (much) about their feelings, but wanting to know who Kyle's second grade teacher had been and whose ponytails he'd pulled wasn't code for "Do you have a fear of commitment?", so whatever his problem was, he needed to get over it and Jill was the perfect one to make sure he did.

Bri didn't remember how to get to the Swamp, which meant I was the designated driver, and that meant the guys would, once again, give me a hard time. Seeing as the roads were wet and slippery and the road into the parking area for the Swamp wouldn't have been plowed well, I saw my opportunity to seek vengeance for all the harassment I'd endured this trip (and some advance payment for harassment I'd endure in the future). Out of honor and fairness and the desire to have an audience for what I was going to do, I let Felicity in on my plans and told her to ride shotgun so she could jump out at the trail head when we got to the Swamp.

"_Then_ I will make them scream like little girlies and I will laugh like an evil laughing thing." I grinned a toothy grin.

"If you end up dead, don't come running to me," Felicity said deadpan.

"You sound like my mother."

"Yours said that, too?" She cracked a wry smile. "There must be some handbook every mother gets that has a load of Mom-isms in it."

"My mom said 'if you fall and break both your legs, don't come running to me'."

"Close enough. Mamá liked to be dramatic."

The plan went off without a hitch. I'd been well coached by my father (the third person responsible for making me a crazy driver) on donuts and controlled skids and spins and he gave me refreshers every now and again, so I was entirely in control of each 'accidental' fishtail and other display of uncertain driving that occurred during the drive up to the Swamp. Felicity had known full well what I'd be doing and that all of it was on purpose, and even she was looking a bit shaky when she got out at the Swamp so I could only imagine what kinds of streaks Bri and Kyle had put in their pants. The worst, however, was yet to come.

Several times each winter, my dad and I went to an empty parking lot when things were icy and snowy and generally slick and had a blast doing donuts when no one else was around (usually Sunday evenings around eight). This time, it wasn't laughter I heard when I slammed on the breaks and spun around, it was the panicked yelling of two men in the back seat, but it made no difference: the noise still brought a smile to my face.

_A/N: Yes, it's true: you can't tip cows. It's also true I took great joy in BSing people about how cow tipping was bigger than football in Delhi and that I'd taken part in the weekly Friday night cow tipping competitions, and, yes, both the t-shirt (complete with graphic of a cow on its back and all four legs straight up in the air) and boxers actually exist. Very comfy to wear to bed. The same shirt was bought for a prof when I was attending another college as a gag gift in memory of the informative talk he gave us on why cow tipping was impossible and he loved it. No, you can't have the shirt or the boxers. They iz MINE! Get your own!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Olivia's Parents' House, Thanksgiving 2008**

"I meant to do that," I said when the car stopped inches from a tall pile of snow at one edge of the parking lot, exactly as I'd intended. "Really. I did mean to do that."

The only response from the men in the backseat was fast, heavy breathing. I looked at them in the rearview mirror and was pleased to see both looked very concerned for their continued safety and well-being. Slowly, I backed the car around, drove at a sedate place to a spot closer to the trail head, where Felicity was sitting in the snow, laughing, and pulled smoothly to a stop before parking it.

"Ready to go?" I asked brightly.

"You meant to do that," Bri said dully.

"Yup." I nodded. "You guys have been giving me grief long enough about my driving, I figured it was about time to return the favor and give you some grief in return. My dad's spent years making sure I can handle myself in skids and spins and taught me how to do donuts with the best of them, so, yes, I meant to do that. All of it, the entire way up here. I forewarned Felicity, so don't expect her to believe stories about how this proves I'm a horrible driver who never should've been given a license. Oh, she's laughing her butt off, so good luck getting sympathy."

Kyle muttered a naughty word under his breath before getting out of the car and slamming the door behind himself. Bri met my eyes in the mirror and stared for a moment before getting out and closing the door gentler than Kyle had had.

For reasons known only to them, men rarely ever admit in front of others that they were actually scared enough to shriek like little girls and put streaks in their pants. Instead, they'll act tough and deny they were the one shrieking and they definitely were not frightened, even when presented with the photographic and audio evidence they were the one(s) shrieking and that their exact words were "Holy shit, we're going to crash!" Men also insist on keeping up the John Wayne façade even when the women present observed said terrifying experience themselves and heard the men shrieking and have told the guys to just drop the macho act because they aren't fooling anyone.

"Pretending you thought it was all a jolly good time and that you weren't shrieking; you were laughing at a high pitch isn't going to earn you any points," I said dryly as we started down the main trail into the Swamp. "Especially you, Bri. You guys aren't unshakable pillars of strength and manly virtue. Occasionally rattled pillars of strength and manly virtue, maybe, but not unshakable." I glanced over at Bri. "Or are you trying to act like you never broke a sweat to rob me of the chance to gloat and grin smugly?"

"So when do the chickadees show up to eat our hands?" Kyle asked.

"Put some seed in your hand, stand still, and hold your out a bit. Pass the bag my way when you're done. Thanks. We should spread out a bit."

The chickadees would've come anyway if we just stood there with empty hands, but the seed would make sure they stayed around longer. The Nature Conservancy, which owned the property, didn't like people feeding the birds because it taught them to see humans as a food source and stay around but people gleefully ignored the sign and the flock…well, they'd land even if your hand was bare so the birds were already hopeless cases. A little bit of birdseed wouldn't hurt and it was geared for wild birds, or that's what the big bag my mom had bought for the feeders in the front yard said. It wasn't like we were giving them bread or popcorn or anything that was bad for them. They would've stayed in the area regardless of if people were feeding them anyway, unlike the Canada geese that were a nuisance in some nearby towns.

Before I left my parents, I'd borrowed my parents' camera on a whim, in case there was something worth getting a pic of and, right then, I was glad I had it. The expressions on everyone's faces were absolutely priceless and I knew then framed copies of the pics would be my Christmas presents for them this year.

The first time chickadees had landed on my hands and stayed (only for a moment, since I didn't have anything that day) I'd felt like I was Snow White and the sense of wonder and amazement and joy I experienced in those few minutes lasted through the rest of the day and most of the next. I'd been a regular hiker at the Swamp in all seasons before moving to New York and even after two years, the joy and wonder of watching them alight on my fingers and the feel the birds land and walk on my hands the tips of their small beaks as they browsed through and picked up and ate seed, and listening to them 'talk' with others in the flock was still as great as the first time. I felt closest to God when I was experiencing His creation and I had no doubt that, however the little birds had been corrupted, all this was one of the many small ways God showed His love for me. He knew it would rock my world to have birds eating out of my hands, so He arranged for me to meet up with the Swamp's flock of piggy little birdies.

"There are birds on my hands!" Felicity breathed excitedly, startling one or two of the 'dees and causing them to fly to the tall bushes that lined one side of the path. "Oh, no! They left!" She looked truly distressed and upset.

"Don't worry; just stand still and they'll come back. If they don't, there will be other 'dees more than willing to come in their stead." I was proved right a moment later and captured Felicity's expression as the little birds landed on her fingers and started chattering with their friends. The joy and wonder on her face made her look like she was five years old and I couldn't help but grin.

The guys looked like overgrown kindergarteners as well with their wide eyes and slaw jaws and how they just stood, frozen, and watched the birds eat from their palms. When I moved to put more seed in their hands the birds scattered and I watched their expressions fall like someone had jerked the supports out from underneath, but when the birds ascertained the danger had passed and there was still food to be had they wasted no time flying back to Bri's and Kyle's hands, bringing back the little boy look. Bri looked so goofy I couldn't help but giggle. His parents were definitely going to get a copy of at least one of the pics.

As I focused to get a good picture of Kyle's face, I noticed an intense sadness and regret in his eyes that made me want to go right over and hug him and try to fix what was wrong. I didn't, though. I took my picture and silently prayed that whatever was wrong would be resolved and that if he wanted to talk to anyone, he'd know he could come to me.

I also took some pics of the three of them, birds on their hands, their bright jackets and hats standing out sharply in contrast to the snow-covered marsh behind them. "So many to frame, so little money to do it with," I murmured. I'd grabbed an extra roll of film as well and I knew I'd need it.

My putting the camera away was met with protest from Bri, who was quickly joined by Kyle and Felicity.

"You're not going to escape having your picture taken that easily!" Felicity crowed, striding toward me, hand out. "Camera. Now."

"Knock yourself out. Unlike you, I'm secure enough not to care if I look foolish in pictures only friends and some family are going to see. It's not like they haven't seen me looking foolish before." I scooped a handful of seed out of the bag I was holding, handed it to Felicity, then divided the seed between both hands and held them out.

The 'dees arrived a moment later and I couldn't help but grin and marvel at how amazing the little birds were, totally unafraid of humans, bold enough to come and see what we had if we stood still long enough for them to land on us, trusting enough to stay and stand and eat their fill. The delicate coloring and patterns on the feathers was fantastic. How did the bird's body know to grow white feathers only to a certain point and the ones anterior to the white were supposed to be grey? How did the bird's body know to grow feathers that were black at the tip with the rest grey? I knew I'd never grow tired of studying and wondering at God's creation. The more I learned, the more I realized how much was left to learn.

A tug on my sleeve brought me out of my thoughts.

"Let's go," Bri said. "We need to keep moving or we're going to freeze our butts off."

Just inside the tree line of the woods, my favorite trail branched off to the left so, being the only one who knew where they were going, I turned left and the others followed me.

About three-quarters of the way to the other end of the trail there were the crumbling remains of a stone wall, and covered with snow it looked like something out of a fairy story. In the trees around us, chickadees called to one another, probably telling their friends that the humans with the seed were at the wall and they'd better keep up in case we decided to feed the wildlife again.

"I've always thought this was so pretty," I remarked, gesturing to what was left of the wall. "In the summer it's covered with moss and lichen and small plants and flowers and it's beautiful. It's beautiful this time of year, too, but in a different way. It reminds me of illustrations in books of fairy tales, where fair maidens are walking in the woods picking flowers and being their innocent selves and Prince Charming comes along and sees her and falls in love with her at the first sight of her radiant beauty." I struck a dramatic pose. "Then he pulls her up onto the horse with him, they ride to her castle, Charming gets permission to marry her, and they ride off into the sunset to live Happy Ever After." I rolled my eyes and shrugged. "If only that happened in the real world."

"Perfection is boring," Felicity remarked. "And you'd always feel inferior and who wants that?"

"Yeah, but if he's perfect then he's obviously gorgeous and has a great body, among other things," I quipped. "Plenty of women would consider those excellent reasons to go for the Happy Ever After. Besides, who says he's perfect? Maybe he snores or slurps his soup or snorts when he laughs."

"That pose you just did. Do it again," Kyle said.

Hoping I wouldn't end up regretting not asking why first, I did.

There was the sound of a shutter clicking and the brightness of a camera flash on my left. "Thanks. It was too funny not to get a picture of."

"Thanks." I gave him a dirty look and stuck my tongue out at him. "If I hear about this from anyone not here today, I'll know who to skin alive."

"Would I do that to you?"

"Does a wild bear poop in the woods? Any other embarrassing pictures you want to take, or can we move along? My toes are starting to get numb."

"Take a picture of us," Felicity said, grabbing Bri's arm and pulling him over to stand next to her in front of the wall. "Look happy, honey; not like you'd rather be walking on broken glass barefoot."

"You aren't even looking at me. How do you know I'm not smiling and looking thrilled?" Bri, for the record, while he didn't look like he'd rather walk on broken glass, definitely looked less than thrilled to be posing for a photograph in front of a snow-covered stone wall.

She looked up at him and tapped his nose. "Eight years of marriage, dear. You learn a lot in eight years. Now smile. One picture isn't going to kill you, and—" she whispered something to him that made his whole face light up. 'Three guesses why he's grinning and the first two don't count,' I thought sardonically. One nice thing about still being single was how much I'd learned from watching and listening to my friends who'd beat me to the altar or were in committed relationships and learning from them. Every single girl friend told me that sex was the ultimate motivator.

"There's no need to remind him or nag him," Lettice, a friend from high school, had told me, "because he doesn't waste any time getting to it. He gets what he wants, I get what I want, and we're not sore with one another like when I had to get on him all the time to help out."

"We call it positive reinforcement in animal training." My smirk turned into a smile when Lettice gave a laugh. "It's the truth. Give them a treat when they do what you ask instead of yelling or doing something when they don't obey. Instead of connecting you with pain and fear and bad things, they connect you with yummy, good stuff and they want to do what you ask so they can have the goodies. Humans can be trickier than cougars or black bears, but if all you want is something simple, like getting your husband to help with the housework, it doesn't matter what you're trying to train. Find out what it likes and give it to them when they do what you want." I made a face. "I wish more parents knew that. It would greatly reduce the number of obnoxious, screaming brats that make shopping trips so irritating some days. That, and if you promise something, follow through. Kids ain't stupid. You tell them there won't be any ice cream after the grocery store unless they're quiet, then don't bloody get them ice cream later if they didn't shut up! It's not a hard concept. Follow. Through. Don't bargain or wheedle or bribe or keep threatening a spanking if they don't behave. Don't give kids the power. They see they can throw a fit and make you dance to their tune, you just lost their respect and your authority and you'll have a child from Hel."

"Or a husband who tunes you out because you're a nag who never shuts up," Lettice remarked dryly. "Mama nagged Daddy something terrible sometimes and he'd just act like he didn't hear a word she was saying. The stuff got done, but it was on Daddy's timetable, not Mama's."

After I got a few different shots of Bri and Felicity I started to put the camera back in its case and continue down the trail but Felicity grabbed my arm.

"I want a picture of you and Brian. It'll only take a minute."

Shrugging, I went over to stand by Brian. I'd wanted a current shot of him and me for a while and now was as good a time as any to get it.

When Felicity gave the camera to Kyle and told him to get a shot of Bri, her, and me, I could almost tell from the way Bri's jaw clenched he was trying not to groan and say something about doing this some other time when we weren't standing around in the cold. I gave his hand a squeeze and shot him a sympathetic, amused look when he glanced over at me. Hopefully this would be it. Just one shot and then we'd move on.

My hopes were dashed again when Felicity wanted to get a shot of Kyle and me.

"If I'd known this was going to be a photo shoot, I'd have brought my lights and a better camera," I remarked dryly. "I only have one more roll of film. I'm thinking now I should've brought another ten." I laughed when Felicity rolled her eyes. "There are lots of other great places to get pictures, so maybe we could take some there. My toes are getting kind of numb from just standing here."

"Oh, sorry!" Felicity handed me the camera. "It's just so pretty."

"No worries. I just want to keep moving so my toes and fingers don't freeze off."

As we started walking again, Bri muttered a quick "Thank you" before going to walk next to Felicity. I gave a small salute in acknowledgement and he smiled.

"Where are these other spots of beauty and how can we avoid them?" Kyle asked me dryly in a low voice. "You don't have the film and I know I don't want to be out here all day taking pictures every fifty or one hundred feet."

"I was serious when I said I only have one other roll of film and I want more than just posed photographs, so don't worry. I'll try to keep the camera out of her hands as much as possible."

"I heard that!" Felicity said lightly. "I know where you two sleep, both of you! Don't make me show people photos of what you look like first thing in the morning!"

Kyle and I looked at each other, then back at her.

"You have to get the pictures first," Kyle reminded her. "How do you plan to do that? Break into our apartments while we're sleeping?"

"I have my ways," she said enigmatically.

Getting Kyle would be a feat for her, but I had a roomie who would be only too happy to help Felicity.

"Blackmail. That's low," I said. "Don't forget turnabout is fair play." I gave her a wide grin. "I'm sure you don't want people to hear about what happened five minutes before your wedding was supposed to start."

"You wouldn't!"

I shrugged and smiled. "No photos of Kyle and I looking a mess and I won't tell anyone about that…unfortunate incident with your bouquet, Marline's nail polish, and Sylvia's corset. What happened with the bridal party will stay with the bridal party."

"It better."

I returned my focus to the path ahead, which was bringing us back out onto the main trail.

"Next, the swamp. Not as pretty as during the summer, but the 'gators and copperheads are frozen under the ice right now so it's not all bad."

"You are evil," Kyle said in a low voice. "Are you trying to freak Felicity out on purpose?"

"No, and I'm fully aware I'm a pig from Hel and too twisted for color TV. You still love me more than your luggage, though, right?" I looked up at him and, smiling as sweetly as possible, batted my eyelashes.

"If I had luggage, it would be a toss-up, and watch where you're going." He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my left just before my foot collided with an errant tree root. "I have better things to do than protect you from yourself the rest of the day."

"Maybe, but protecting me is a lot more exciting." I reached up and lightly pushed a low hanging tree branch, sending a shower of snow to the ground. "You'll be assisting a fair damsel in distress, a most noble thing."

He gave a bark of laughter. "Fair, I'll give you. I've seen how easily you burn in the summer. I don't know how noble saving a damsel from distress of her own making is, though. Sounds more like enabling."

He grabbed my arm again to steer me around a root in the middle of the path (that I had seen, thankyouverymuch), pulling me off balance. I fell against him, pushing him off balance, and we both went down. Thankfully, there was a thick layer of dead leaves underneath the snow that cushioned the landing somewhere, for Kyle at least. He'd barely had time to inhale after having the breath knocked out of him before I landed partially on top him, knocking the breath out of him for the second time in as many seconds.

"That one was your fault," I muttered as I picked myself up and brushed the snow out of my hair and off my coat and jeans. "Why'd you yank me? I saw the root because I was watching where I was going like you told me to."

Bri and Felicity had been hanging back from Kyle and me, talking about whatever couples talk about in low voices when they don't want people nearby to hear what they're saying, and I was already on my feet and Kyle was starting to stand up when they reached us.

"Are you okay?" Bri asked, voice heavy with concern.

I nodded. "Kyle grabbed me to save me from tripping on a root in the trail I was aware of, I lost my balance and fell against him and we both went down." I shrugged slightly. "The leaves cushioned his fall and he cushioned mine."

"I'm fine; thanks for asking," Kyle grumbled as he got to his feet. "Nothing broken except for my pride."

"That'll heal up fast enough," I teased. "Stand still for a minute." I brushed snow and leaves off his back. "You're on your own to clean your bum off. Have fun."

"You're not going to?"

"As much as I'd love to, I'll have to pass," I said, covering my sudden discomfort with dry sarcasm. "You're a big boy. I don't think you need any help."

"You're already back there, so why not finish the job?"

"Enough," Bri said sharply before I could think up a retort. "You're making her uncomfortable. Stop." He gave Kyle a look of irritation.

My face, already red from Kyle's comment, flamed hotter. 'I do not need a big brother,' I thought heatedly. Leave it to Bri to stick his nose in and broadcast exactly what you didn't want shared to the world.

"I'm a big girl, Bri." I worked hard to keep my voice level and a sharp edge off my words. "Thank you for caring, but I can take care of myself."

"Sorry. Just trying to help."

"I know. I appreciate that." I smiled to soften my words as I walked over to him and hooked my arm through his. "This isn't the first time Kyle's been cheeky. I know how to handle him."

Kyle started to say something but a Look from Bri made him close his mouth and we continued on in silence.

When we reached the ramp to the raised walkway through the swamp, Felicity stopped dead.

"You're sure there aren't any alligators right now?" she asked me warily.

"Absolutely. Nothing to worry about." I dropped Bri's arm and hurried on ahead, taking slow, deep breaths to keep from bursting out laughing.

The swamp was stark and desolate in the winter, devoid of the cattails and colorful flowering water plants that grew here during the warm weather, and the Red-Wing Blackbirds that perched on the cattails, the red and yellow bands on their wings standing out prominently against the glossy black of their feathers. Dragonflies would sun themselves on leaves and the rails of the walkway, the sunlight reflecting brightly off their iridescent bodies, their wings moving sluggishly until something startled them and they were racing away, their wings a blur of motion. Without the summer cacophony of frogs calling, male mockingbirds singing for mates and loudly staking their turf, warning other males to stay away Or Else, and the lazy buzz and drone of insects darting from one place to another, the swamp seemed empty and hollow, the only sound the rattle of dead cattails in the breeze. Winter was definitely the wrong time of year to come here. Hopefully, we'd all be back in the area sometime when the weather was warmer and the swamp was alive again.

I gave no outward sign I was aware of my friends coming toward me on the walkway as I leaned on the top of the railing and stared out over the frozen swamp, to all appearances lost in thought and unaware of what was going on around me. Only someone who didn't know me would've been surprised by how quickly I'd tuned out. Everyone else was used to it and a few sick minds took advantage of it and got a kick out of walking up and tapping me on the shoulder to startle me.

Unfortunately for the sick mind who decided to try and get his jollies at my expense that day, I was entirely aware of the three people approaching to my right and that only two of them continued on to my left a short distance. Smiling slightly to myself, I looked forward to ruining Kyle's fun. Hopefully he wouldn't stand there too long.

Much to my frustration, the only move he made was to stand next to me, hands in his pockets.

"It's better in the summer," I remarked conversationally. "I love watching the blackbirds on the cattails and seeing if I can spot frogs floating in the water. Sometimes, all that's above the surface is their eyes and it's real easy to miss those, but I'm getting better. Mostly Leopard Frogs and Bullfrogs. Around sunset, I hear American Toads tuning up all over the place. I've caught a few."

"What did you do with them? Keep them?"

I shook my head. "Catch and release. It's illegal to keep wild caught frogs and I just do it for the thrill and challenge of trying to catch them anyway. If I had hip waders, I'd try for the Leopard and Bullfrogs, too. If I knew where to dig this time of year, I might see if I could find some frogs and turtles. You're no fun, by the way."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm standing there, just staring out at the swamp and not reacting to what's going on around me, and instead of trying to make me jump and scream, and you just stand next to me. You're getting boring in your old age."

"You mean like this?" He suddenly grabbed me around the waist from behind and I shrieked.

"Yes, like that." I said archly. I mentally kicked myself for not noticing he'd moved behind me. So much for being aware of what was going on around me.

He laughed and let go of me. "You were saying?"

"You're a nasty old fart, you know that?"

"You're not so young yourself, turning thirty in three months. Only ten more years until you're over the hill."

I snorted. "You're forty-one, so you're hardly one to talk about being old and it's all a state of mind, anyway. Take care of yourself and stay active and you can keep going strong until the day you drop dead mid-step. You'd better hurry up get married so you can have kids while you still have the energy to keep up with them." I turned around so I was looking at him. "Mari's nuts about you and she'd marry you in a heartbeat if you asked." I laughed when an expression of irritation floated across his face. "She's not going to be happy to find out her efforts to win your heart have been in vain. You might want to talk to Marcia about changing shows." Marcia was his agent and, from the stories I'd heard, I was sure she ate nails for breakfast and one look from her probably could've reduced even Lord Voldemort to a quivering, whimpering wreck.

"If I change shows when I get married, it'll be because I want to, not to avoid Mari." He pulled a face. "Not that it isn't a very tempting idea."

Mari Sanchez was a castmate of Kyle's. They'd met when they were both in Joseph ten years ago and been sexually involved. He didn't form any lasting attachment and didn't look back when he moved to Toronto to do The Lion King when the tour ended in May 2000, but Mari, from what I'd heard, had fallen in love with him and was heartbroken. They met up again in January 2003 when he returned to New York to star in The Producers. Mari (understandably) fell for him all over again and, in her usual less-than-subtle way, let him know. Kyle turned her down and told her he wasn't interested and apologized for using her in the past.

I could sympathize with her pain and understood wanting to try to find any shred of hope in his words that he might feel differently in the future, but he'd been clear about considering her a friend. She'd refused to accept that and was convinced that if she just kept at it long enough he'd come to see he cared for her, too.

"I prefer London, myself. Do you think you could introduce me to John Barrowman?" I smiled sweetly.

Kyle raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"Going to London. The West End. You did tell me you met John Barrowman while you were there, didn't you?"

"I did, but what does London have to do with any of this?"

"Well, considering I know that you're absolutely nuts about me, so you can quit denying it—" I grinned widely in response to his 'what are you smoking?' look "—I figure that I can help get Mari off your back and make my dream of moving to London a reality in one fell swoop by marrying you. We already know each other extremely well so there aren't any illusions, we've seen each other at our worst, and we've already fought and made up. None of that annoying, time-consuming 'getting to know you' stuff that goes on with dating." I was completely squirrel bait. Totally and completely barking mad to be talking about getting serious, to be storming forth into delicate, uncertain territory with all the caution and care as a herd of rampaging wildebeests. 'Tally, ho!' I thought sardonically. 'If you're going to shoot yourself in the foot, don't be a wuss and use a pistol. Use a bazooka and really blow things to Hel!' I was, for once, truly only joking around so I had that to fall back on if Kyle got defensive about it.

"Where is Olivia and what have you done with her?"

"Pardon?"

"Are you talking about marriage or a business merger?" he chided. "What ever happened to 'I'll marry for love or not at all'?"

I rolled my eyes and shook my head slightly. "I wasn't serious, Kyle. I thought you'd picked up on that, though I might've been a bit serious about knowing you're in denial about being crazy about me. Besides, just because there are good practical reasons to get hitched doesn't mean it would be dry and passionless." I smirked knowingly. "I have no doubt it would be anything but."

"The only one who's crazy is you. You're as nuts as Mari."

"The only thing you've ever done with her is blow her off. You were begging me to move down here, we go for coffee and hang out…I've done your laundry, for pete's sake. Unlike her, I have solid reasons to believe you shall one day be all mine." I stuck my tongue out at him.

"I could never marry you." A playful smile teased at his lips. "You're a tease and Mama would never approve of my marrying a tease."

"Are we talking about her again? I thought we decided that there's nothing left for a woman like me to corrupt and that since she'd already rolled over and died from the shame of it all what she thought didn't matter anymore, not that you heeded her when she was alive anyway." I put my hands on my hips. "Your mama was a very boring woman who obviously never had any fun, so fie upon her and I bite my thumb in her general direction." I took off a glove and lightly bit my thumb.

"How Shakespearian," Kyle said, dryly amused.

"Quite," I agreed. "You bring out the worst in me, you know. Except when you're around, I'm a Good Little Christian Girl. When I'm with you, I end up acting quite the wanton woman. If your mama was here, it's my virtue she'd be worried about, not yours, and if my mama knew what a blackguard you truly were, she'd just roll over and die just like your mama did. You've fooled my mama into thinking you're such a nice young man when all you really want to do is lead me down the primrose path to a life of sin and debauchery." I smiled and laughed.

"I haven't heard you complaining, and you're the one sticking your tongue out at me and acting like a tease."

"Every girl needs a hobby," I chirped brightly. "Some collect stamps, some knit sweaters…me, I like to tease the boys. It's fun." I stuck my tongue out at him again.

"Is that an offer?" he asked lightly.

"Are you interested?"

_'Pleasepleasepleaseplease!' _begged my inner slut—er, voice. I glared at it to shut up, but it just grinned at me like the wicked, wanton thing it was. _'Don't glare at me, dear. If you were honest with yourself, you'd be begging right along with me.'_

'But what if he regrets it later?' I wondered.

_'Wake up and smell the pheromones! He's been flirting and coming on to you the last two days, and do you really think he'd have brought up his dear, departed mama if he was going to regret it later?'_

'Excellent point. An early Christmas, after all. Oh, happy day!'

_'A very happy day, indeed. Now go give his mama a few more reasons to complain. I'll be shameless begging if you need me.'_


	10. Chapter 10

Returning to the situation at hand, I realized Kyle had taken a step closer

Returning to the situation at hand, I realized Kyle had taken a step closer while I was arguing with my inner voice (which was taking its mission of shamelessly begging very seriously) and he was saying something about was I sure I wanted to find out. Was I sure I wanted to find out? Find out—oh, _that_. Remembering, I felt my cheeks grow warm and I couldn't keep myself from smiling rather foolishly.

"Of course," I said lightly. "What's the point in teasing someone if they're only going to ignore you? Conservation of resources and not casting pearls before swine and all that jolly rot."

"Are you calling me a pig?" He took another step toward me.

"Only metaphorically." Heart pounding, I raised my gaze to his face. I wasn't sure how, but Kyle had somehow managed to gain control of the situation and as thrilled as my inner voice was by that, it just made me nervous. "Whatever virtues my mama failed to instill in me, a lack of manners is not one of them, and it's obvious your flirting is nothing more than dissembling prevarication meant to obfuscate me so I won't notice you're all talk and no action." In case of emergency, throwing around big words was a quick way to (re)gain the upper hand.

"What's that mean in English?"

"It is English. Not my fault if you slept through English class in high school. Using smaller words, it's clear that you're all talk and no action and you were hoping to turn my brain to mush so I'd be too confused to notice."

"You—" he lightly flicked the tip of my nose "—are clearly dissembling prevarication because you'd rather have all talk and no action, not me."

"It would be 'dissembling to prevaricate'," I chided, "and, no, I'm not blathering on to try and prevent anything. You're the one who does nothing but talk about how ashamed your mama would be of you. No consorting with women of questionable morals when you've had the chance, just lots of teasing and empty promises. It's disappointing, really." I sighed and made a sad face. "You're turning out to be no fun at all."

"Surely your own mama taught you it's not good manners to do that in front of others."

"Depends on who the 'others' are, and there's no one else around right now—well, at least not within twenty or thirty feet, so are you gonna start giving your mama reasons to roll over and die or are you gonna just keep standing there and flapping your gums?" I crossed my arms over my chest and raised my eyebrows questioningly.

"Tease."

"You're one to talk," I said, irritated, eyes narrowed slightly. "Flirting and coming on to me and acting like you actually intend to back up your words but all you're doing is blowing smoke. If that's all you want to do, tell it to the cattails." I turned and started toward Bri and Felicity.

Kyle grabbed my shoulder and moved quickly so he was blocking my path..

"How can I if you don't stop talking? It's a real mood killer; getting your tongue bitten."

"'Getting your tongue bitten'? How the heck would that happen?" I gave him a withering look. "Try an excuse that makes sense next time."

A slow, smug smile spread across his face and, not taking his eyes from mine, he let go of my shoulder, letting his fingers trail slowly down my arm. I shivered involuntarily and his smile grew. Without looking away, he lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed the palm, and then took my other hand and did the same thing before placing both my arms around his neck. I shivered again.

He put his hands on the small of my back and pulled me closer, making my inner voice purr loudly with satisfaction. Lowering his face so that his lips were barely brushing mine, he said softly, "You've never been properly kissed."

"How would you know?" Hopefully, he'd have a selective memory failure and forget I'd hardly ever been kissed, period, nevermind how good it had been—except for Chris. He could remember everything I'd told him about what happened in London.

"If you had, you'd know why I wasn't making excuses."

His lips melted over mine and I forgot everything but the feel of his mouth against mine and of his arms around me. I eagerly reciprocated, my inner voice shouting very lewd suggestions and encouragement.

_'Third time's the charm!'_ it crowed gleefully. '_He's really good for a guy who hasn't snogged in a while. Just think how good he'll be when he's back in practice!'_

'Too busy to think right now,' I thought tersely.

_'My bad! We'll talk later.'_

Startled by a shout of "Get a room, you two!" I pulled back.

"I'm going to kill him," Kyle muttered under his breath, resting his forehead against mine.

"Who? Oh, Bri." I smiled slightly. "What did you expect he'd do, walk up and politely clear his throat and say he and Felicity had seen enough dead cattails and frozen alligators?" I stretched up and brushed a kiss across his lips. "We can give your mama more reasons to roll over and die later and the sofas and loveseats at Earthtones would be a great place to do it."

"I like the way you think." He laughed softly and gave my braid a tug.

"I hope that's not the only thing," I quipped dryly, taking his hand and lacing my fingers through his. "Not that I'm not thrilled you actually—like me for more than just my fabulous body and stunning beauty." I'd almost said 'love' but I didn't want to push my luck. I was not going to risk scaring him off by coming on like a ton of bricks.

"Definitely not." He gave my hand a squeeze and stepped back.

Bri, seeing Kyle and I were now only attached at the hand, strode over.

"It took you long enough," he said matter-of-factly to Kyle.

"Sod off." I gave Bri a withering look and wished he'd go away and leave us alone. There was so much I wanted to say to Kyle and talk to him about and I felt like I'd burst if I had to wait to tell him. It seemed like an eternity until we'd be back in the City and I'd have Kyle to myself again.

Felicity came up behind Bri and lightly swatted him upside the head.

"You're terrible," she chided her husband. "Our plane leaves in two-and-a-half hours, so we should head back."

Walking back hand-in-hand with Kyle, I couldn't stop grinning at the sudden turn of events. It was an odd feeling, actually getting what I'd been longing and hoping for and still didn't seem real. I wasn't quite sure what to do now that I'd gotten him but I looked forward to finding out.

Bri said he'd drive back, ostensibly because he thought Kyle and I would want to sit together in the backseat, but I suspected it was really because he was afraid I'd repeat my earlier stunts. Whatever his reason(s), the offer was too good to refuse so I handed over my keys and got in on the driver's side.

"Bri, will it bother you if I kick the seat?" I asked brightly.

"Yes."

"Oh, good! I'll make sure to do it a lot, then." I smiled at him in the rearview mirror. "Nothing like a nice game of Distract the Driver to make things interesting!"

"Kyle, switch places with her. Please." There was a pleading note in Bri's voice that made me laugh.

"Oh, you're no fun," I pouted. "Okay, fine, I won't kick your seat. Now, at least. On the plane back you won't be driving so that's fair game." I grinned brightly.

Kyle touched my arm and when I turned to look at him he kissed me, driving all thoughts of Bri and the best ways to jerk his chain from my mind.

It was just starting to get good when Kyle, much to my annoyance and frustration, ended the kiss. I stared at him dumbly, my mind on overload. Why had he stopped? How could he be so cruel?

The sound of Bri clearing his throat reminded me there were two other people in the car and, glancing at the front seats, they were both looking at Kyle and me with amusement. I felt my face grow hot and wished Kyle hadn't kissed me at all. He knew (or should've by that point) the only place I didn't mind being the center of attention was on stage, and, most importantly, there was a snowball's chance in Hel Bri and Felicity would pass up the opportunity to razz me about being lovey dovey in public. Kyle and I were so definitely having a talk when we got back to the City.

Bri wasted absolutely no time in giving Kyle's and my chains a good, hard jerk.

"Eager much?" He sounded far too excited and eager to give us a hard time for my liking. "Should I put up some curtains so you two can have some privacy?"

"And deny you the opportunity to watch and learn from a master?" Kyle retorted smoothly.

Much to my dismay, the earth did not open up and swallow me whole, nor did my atoms suddenly rearrange themselves, allowing me to sink into the seat. My silent prayer of, 'Kill me now, please!' was also denied, leaving me no choice but to continue to suffer profound mortification and struggle mightily with urges to throttle both Bri and Kyle, which I kept under control by silently repeating 'They're not worth the jail time' over and over, like a mantra.

In contrast to my misery, Bri was grinning and laughing.

"Olivia's turned purple!" he exclaimed. "I had no idea people could do that!"

"Learn something new every day," I muttered. "If you could drop me at my parents' before going to your place, I'd appreciate it."

"That's not going to—I know. We'll stop at my parents' and the three of us will get out there and you take the car back to your parents and we'll meet you at the airport."

"Whatever." My parents needed their car back to take me to the airport, so Bri's plan made sense. I truly didn't care how we did it just as long as the ride from Hel ended as quickly as possible.

The parental units were home when I got back. My mom, of course, had to interrogate me for every last detail about where I'd gone, what I'd done, and how many times I'd taken a breath. I'd made a mental note years ago never to grill my kids like my mom grilled me. She meant well and was just curious, but there were times there wasn't much to say and other times, like today, when I didn't feel like spilling every little detail. I wanted to wait a bit and see if Kyle and I lasted before I said anything to my parents because my mom would make a huge deal out of the fact I had a boyfriend and my dad would make like Robert DiNiro in _Meet the Parents_, only without the lie detector (my dad didn't have one), and they'd start making comments in jest about marriage and grandkids, and I really didn't want to deal with that. My mom would drive me nuts with how often she razzed me. My dad would drive me up the wall, across the ceiling, and down the other side—where the liquor cabinet was. Unlike my mom, my dad didn't seem to know (or care) when his comments were over the line and I knew I'd be hearing "So when are you going to get busy making me grandkids?" along with other, more raunchy and tasteless remarks not long after he found out I was with Kyle.

I was only halfway up the stairs when, as I'd expected, my mom called, "Where'd you go?" from the kitchen.

"Thousand Acre Swamp with Bri, Felicity, and Kyle. Figured it would be a nice way to waste some time before we went to the airport. It was gorgeous with all the snow and we took some seed and fed the chickadees. What time are we leaving? I just need to throw a few things in my bag, so I can be ready to go pretty quick."

"In about an hour."

"What?" A sick feeling filled my stomach. "Mom, I need to get there at least an hour and a half before my flight or I'll never make it on time! The security is insane!" Just what I needed; another mad dash to the airplane like I'd done in July '04 when I was leaving for the UK.

"Stop yelling and come downstairs!" my dad shouted from the living room. "I can't read with all this noise!"

I rolled my eyes, turned around, and headed back downstairs.

My mom was at the sink, washing her dishes from what was baking at the moment and perfuming the air with—I thought for a moment—the scent of pumpkin spice bread. I glanced at the timer on the stove and saw it would be out before we had to leave.

'Most excellent!' I thought excitedly. I was definitely going to snag a few slices for the road and to share. That reminded me I had leftovers in the fridge I wanted to take back with me, so I got them out and put them in plastic grocery bags before I forgot and left them behind. I'd purposely used my largest backpack, previously used to haul tons of books between classes, as my carry-on so I'd have room to bring the bounty back with me. I looked forward to hearing what airport security would say when they x-rayed it.

"We need to leave in the next half hour or so," I told my mom. "Like I said, I only have my toothbrush and deodorant to throw in with the rest of my stuff so I'm pretty much ready to go.

Mom glanced at me over her shoulder. "Dad will have to take you, then. I have things I still need to get done here."

I shrugged. "Whatever. Doesn't matter." I went into the living room to inform my dad he was the appointed chauffeur.

"I heard," he said, not looking up from the newspaper. "Let me know when you're ready to go and I'll get my shoes on."

My dad and I didn't tend to talk when it was just me and him in the car, so I was surprised when, as we sped up the on ramp to the expressway, my dad said, "What's going on with you and that Kyle guy?"

"What do you mean, 'what's going on'?" I was immediately on the defensive and on guard, using my favorite tool of obfuscation, the non-answer answer.

"You know what I mean." Dad sounded annoyed, as if he were upset I hadn't immediately spilled every last detail of my relationship with Kyle. "Maybe everyone else bought his story about not wanting to watch football, but he was more than happy to go in and watch whatever football game your grandfather and uncles had on. So, what's going on?" He looked over at me for a moment.

"As far as I know, exactly what he said." I was profoundly relieved Dad had chosen the wrong tree to bark up. Dragging Kyle to Rochester after threatening to break his kneecaps if he didn't come was something Bri would've done even if I hadn't, and Kyle wasn't the only one I'd invited to dinner, just the only one to take me up on it.

"Not everyone likes lots of football on Thanksgiving. You don't. Bri's family is really insane about the Bowl games and they have a TV on near the table so they can watch the game while they eat. Given a choice between that or people waiting until after dinner to turn on the TV and not go ballistic over every play, what would you choose?"

"I don't understand why you two haven't been dating and going out. You're both single, so what's the problem?"

I felt my jaw clench and the muscles of my shoulders and neck grow tight as I waited a moment to speak until the burst of extreme irritation and anger his words had ignited died down.

"Because we're entirely happy just being friends and have no desire to change that?" My attempt to keep the irritation out of my voice failed miserably. "Women and men _can_ have strictly platonic relationships."

"I know, but they're usually married, or at least one of them is. You're both single."

"And?" I shot back. "What does that have to do with anything? So what if we both happen to be single? Just because we are doesn't mean we're obligated to start going out, or that it's inevitable. Mark's single and I've been friends with him longer than Kyle and we're both entirely happy with things the way they are because neither of us have more than a platonic interest in one another. I'm in no rush to get married and I'm not going to go out with someone and be in a relationship just for the sake of being in a relationship." I snorted. "I have too much of a life for that." Liz might be fine with settling and getting married just for the sake of being married, but I had way too much fire in my soul to do that and end up anything other than completely miserable and resenting the guy I'd married for the fact my wings were clipped and I was locked in a cage. I'd settle down when I was ready to and not before. If things went the way I wanted with Kyle, that would be in the near future but I was keeping that to myself.

"I never said do it just for the sake of doing it. It just seems strange you and Kyle haven't started dating, that's all."

'Because it makes no sense why two single people of the opposite sex wouldn't want to date,' I thought sardonically. 'They're friends, so of course they'll end up falling in love and wanting to be more serious. Anything else is inconceivable!'

I lightly bit the tip of my tongue and mentally pictured banging my head against a brick wall. He didn't see where he was wrong and trying to argue the point would only result in increased blood pressure and a bad mood. As long as my parents didn't beat the marriage drum any louder or harder than this, I wasn't going to complain. I'd heard stories about relatives who regularly pounded on the marriage drum and yammered on about getting married before their victim's biological clock ran down, or about how their victim was too pretty to still be single, or something equally as nauseating and infuriating. It was enough to drive you crazy—and straight into the nearest convent, where it was guaranteed you'd never hear anything about why you should marry ever again.

The rest of the drive to the airport was silent and we said only brief good-byes when we got there. As I walked inside, I smiled, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Anytime I had a conversation with my dad, I always felt like I was walking a tightrope over a field of land mines and it was almost guaranteed at least one would go off before I reached the opposite side. Anytime my dad had brought up my car (which I'd sold when I moved), I'd inwardly cringed and waited for him to say what was wrong and how my bad driving or careless maintenance of the car was to blame, and then go into the whole thing where he'd say he'd cover the cost of it but it would seriously inconvenience my parents and I really should be more careful or I'll end up having to do the same thing again in the future and then I was on my own to pay for fixing it. Hearing about how I needed to stop being so forgetful/sloppy could come up at any time, as could the fact I had to repay my parents the Large Amount of money they'd loaned me over the past several years for rent, food, gas, etc. Times when I wasn't on the receiving end of some critique or my life/the way I did things wasn't questioned seemed the exception, not the rule, and if I complained that I felt like he was always on my case, he justified himself by bringing up the fact I owed him A Lot of money so he'd act however the heck he wanted. I looked forward to the day when I'd be able to pay off what I owed, eliminating my dad's excuse and justification for being a prick, and I couldn't wait until I was married because I knew my dad would see everything he'd been on my case about as my husband's problem(s) now, so he'd lay off. At least, I hoped so.

Kyle, Bri, and Felicity were already waiting at the gate when I arrived with my backpack, now empty.

"Leftovers are a security risk," I announced as I sat down next to Felicity. "At least, that's what the rent-a-cops at the security check seemed to think." I rolled my eyes and snorted softly. "How am I going to blow things up with mashed potatoes, turkey, and squash? Feed everyone until they burst?"

"They're just following orders," Felicity remarked sardonically. "Oh, did you see if our flight is still on time?"

"Didn't look. Too busy checking my watch while I wanted in the five-mile long baggage check line and the four-mile long security line. I can go take a look." I was standing and walking toward one of the TVs listing the status of various flights before she responded.

"Right now, it's on time," I said, returning a minute or two later. "Wouldn't be surprised if that changes. With the number of people traveling today and the number of things that can go wrong between Point A and Point B, Murphy's Law will strike with the force of a Grade 3 hurricane. Maybe Grade 4. They already took my highly dangerous leftovers." I made a face.

Kyle lightly tugged my braid. "It's not Murphy's Law when you set yourself up for something to go wrong. Of course they wouldn't allow you on the plane with that many containers."

I gave him an annoyed look and lightly swatted his shoulder. "It was all food and that could've been easily verified if they'd taken a brief moment to open them up and look. I'd have eaten some, too, to prove it wasn't anything toxic and horrible." I sighed. "You're right, though. I should've expected it and stashed them in my checked bag. They'd all probably be empty by the time the bag reached New York, though," I added after a moment. "Contents confiscated on the grounds that the people going through my things were hungry and didn't feel like walking down the hall to get lunch. Would Murphy's Law cover being driven here by my dad instead of my mom, who I thought would be doing it and whose company I infinitely prefer?"

"He start going on about how it's too bad Bri married a spic instead of you?" Felicity's voice was dripping with distain. Between the racist remarks my dad made at Bri and Felicity's wedding reception that she'd overheard and occasional dealings with him in the eight years since, to say she intensely disliked him was an understatement. To her credit, she'd never been anything but polite and gracious the few times they crossed paths, and snarky remarks were few and far between. I blamed today's on the hassle and stress of post-holiday travel.

"No. He knows better than to say that stuff in front of me. Well, he should," I amended when Felicity gave me a 'What reality are you living in?' look. "Anyway, he was on about how the fact Kyle came to dinner with my family was obviously because he and I are involved and saying he didn't like football was just an excuse and he'd seen right through it. I set him straight in no uncertain terms and reminded him I've asked friends to Thanksgiving before and most of them have been females and a few of them are gay, and that just because two people of the opposite sex are single and friends doesn't mean it's inevitable they're going to end up in a romantic relationship." I looked over at Kyle. "So how much of a cover story was it? Are you truly as abnormal as me and not enjoy the traditional holiday entertainment, or was it just a cover story meant to hide your devious and pervy intentions?"

"What do you think?" His expression was inscrutable.

"My Monopoly money's on that you wanted to avoid the crazed football fanatics in Bri's family. Do I win the million dollars and the new car?"

"You live in New York City. What do you need a car for?"

"Never said I wanted it, only asked if I'd won it. I'd sell it and pay off most of my student loans, or some part of all the money I owe to people." I'd lost count of the number of collection agencies bothering me on behalf of the credit card companies and utilities I'd been too broke to pay until recently.

"You're half right, so you only get the million dollars. No car."

I laughed. "I think I can handle getting Ionly/I a million dollars. When can I pick up the check?"

"Come by my place later. Come alone," he said with a wink.

"I may have been born yesterday, but it wasn't last night. You can't fool me. I know what men like you want, saying I have to show up alone. Mom says you're all dirty old men with pervy minds." I smiled widely. "What time should I come?"

"Call me when you're unpacked and Laurie's finished interrogating you." He took my hand. "We'll go get dinner somewhere."

"Sounds like a plan." I felt sixteen again, mind on overdrive, intensely conscious of my hand in his. Unlike when I was sixteen, I wasn't nervously wondering what I was supposed to do and hoping I didn't do anything to scare him away. There were things I missed about being a teen, but those were definitely not among them.

Being a much more confident twenty-nine, I laced my fingers through his and leaned against him, resting my head on his shoulder. "You still make a good pillow."

"Glad I meet your approval."

"You should be." Across the aisle, Bri and Felicity were looking at us with amusement. I flashed them a smile. "I think we're making the married old farts jealous. They miss the days before the passion vanished and they started sitting primly next to one another, never touching. I bet they sleep in twin beds with a nightstand between them now."

"How did you know?" Bri feigned surprise.

"A lucky guess."

"Separate rooms, actually," Felicity remarked. "I couldn't stand being in the same room with him anymore. He too loudly."

"I do not! It's you who snores!"

Felicity looked at him like he were a little boy who'd just announced confidently he was going to dig a hole to China in the back yard after lunch.

"I have it on tape, Brian. It's you who are snoring. Stop pouting." She lightly patted his cheek twice. "I still love you, even if you keep me awake most nights. If you don't go to the doctor about it, though, I will start sleeping in another room."

Kyle gave my hand a squeeze and I looked up at him questioningly. He was smiling and, in response to my expression, gave a small nod towards Bri and Felicity. .

I grinned. "Bickering and fighting. Told you they were old married farts. If he knows what's good for him, he'll do what she says."

"What happened to all that 'wives, submit to your husbands' stuff?" Kyle teased.

"I'll burn that bridge when I get to it, that's what, and I meant it's a good idea to talk to the doctor and have a check up. You never know if there's something going on that you're not aware of. Speaking of which, I need to get to the doctor myself. I can't go until the ninety days are up, or however long it is, so health insurance covers the visit. It would help if I actually had a doc down here to go see. I'll ask around at work to see who's good."

Laurie was lounging on the futon, watching TV, when I let myself in.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, dropping the remote and springing to her feet. "Have a good time?"

"More than words can express. You?" We hugged.

"The usual. Nana gave Ma a hard time about being too thin and me a hard time about not finding a good man and having kids, and Gram came to my defense, saying there's no reason to hurry and I'll marry when I'm good and ready and how it was true what 'they' said about marry in haste; repent in leisure. My dad's family has always been the liberal, hippy types." She grinned. "It's been like that since I graduated from high school. Ma and Pop changed the subject to how great my older brother's doing out in Silicon Valley, developing microprocessors, or something like that. I don't understand tech stuff." She made a dismissive gesture. "He stayed out there for Thanksgiving with his girlfriend's family. He's always been the star of the family and Nana and Gram both adore him so they started going on about how he'd always been a good boy and they knew he'd end up rich and blah, blah, blah. The usual stuff. Guys watching football in the living room, the women in the kitchen getting things ready or taking care of the younger cousins and making sure they didn't kill each other or pull heavy appliances down on themselves."

I laughed. "Sounds crazy. My family's small and the only cousins are my two male cousins, brothers, who are older than I am and myself. We went to my mom's parents' for dinner. Gramma is a fabulous cook. I tried to bring some leftovers back but I made the mistake of trying to take them in my carry on and security wouldn't let me through with them, so the guards are going to eat well tonight," I told her as I headed to my room to unpack. "Gramma was up and down every five minutes, asking people if they wanted anything and she was like 'Are you sure?' when we all said we were fine. Like you said, the usual. My mom's brothers were there, so there were only…eleven of us. There was football but the volume was kept low and it was off while we ate. Gramma always insists she doesn't need help in the kitchen, even when it's obvious an extra pair of hands or two would help get things in dishes and on the table faster. She doesn't argue with my uncles anymore about one of them helping her get the turkey out of the oven, which is progress. All in all, nothing of significance to mention."

"_Nothing_?" Laurie, standing in the doorway, asked incredulously. "What about Kyle? He went with you, didn't he?"

"Yeah. He stayed at Brian's." It was taking all my willpower to keep from grinning and laughing as I tossed dirty laundry into my hamper. "He decided to mooch off my family for Thanksgiving dinner because, according to him, he wasn't up to dealing with Brian's football-mad family and wanted something quieter. Goes without saying my entire family loved him and I'm surprised Gramma didn't say anything to me about how I should ask Kyle out. She's like your Nana, only not as vocal about it."

"So nothing happened?" Laurie sounded a bit forlorn.

"Depends on what you're talking about. Lots of things happened. Food was eaten, TV was watched, coffee was consumed, an ex I never thought I'd see again turned up—"

"What do you mean, an ex you never thought you'd see again turned up?" Laurie plopped down on my bed and sat Indian style. "Spill!"

"I'll fill you in on the details later, but in a nutshell, I met Chris when I was in the UK four years ago and I said as soon as I tied up loose ends in the States I'd move to England to be with him. He broke up with me two months later because he thought I was taking too long to move. That happened right before my now-former best friend got married so I had to suffer through being her Maid of Honor while I was in agony over Chris. I'd never told anyone back home about him for a variety of reasons and the Bridezilla got the wrong idea about why I was in a funky mood and that started a huge thing that ended up with the friendship ending. But I digress. Wednesday night, Kyle, Bri, Felicity, and I were at the coffeehouse Bri and I used to go to all the time when we were in high school and we're having a fine time. I'd told Bri and Felicity to bugger off for a bit because I had something I needed to tell Kyle I wanted to keep just between the two of us, and get your mind out of the gutter. It wasn't anything dirty. Anyway, we were having one of our usual zinger-fests when I look over to the counter and I see Chris there. After having a major heart attack, I look again and it's still Chris. I've gone white by this point and all I can say to Kyle's frantic questions is 'Chris is here' and I had to get Bri and Felicity, and I was just as articulate telling them why we had to leave pronto."

"On the way to the door, Chris sees me and tries to get me to stop but like heck I was going to. He blocks us and wants to know if I remember him." I snorted. "As if I could forget him. I tell him I wish I didn't and I try to pull open the door but he won't let me, so Bri goes all big brother protective and tells Chris to get out of the way and probably gave him a Death Glare or something. Whatever it was, it worked and we got out of there. Thanksgiving night, I took containers of leftovers back to my parents' before heading to Bri's for coffee and a movie. Kyle was with me because, of course, he'd been riding with me. We're joking around and then the doorbell rings. I go and look out the peephole in the front door and it's Chris. I have no idea how he figured out where to find me but he did and I knew he wouldn't just go away if I pretended no one was there so I opened the door."

"What did he want? Was he coming to beg your forgiveness because he'd realized he'd loved you all along and he traveled all the way from England to ask for another chance? How totally romantic!" Laurie flopped back on my bed, smiling.

"That would've been an entirely wasted trip, but that's not it. After I asked him what the heck he wanted and how he'd tracked me down, he tells me he's been going to one of the universities in my hometown for a few years and he's supposedly been looking for me the whole time. Said he'd come to do graduate work and chosen that school because he knew I lived in that city and he wanted to try to find me. I told him in no uncertain terms that if he had any illusions of us picking up where we left off he was kidding himself because I'd moved on. As if I'd bother with a guy who'd already proven he's impatient and has unrealistic expectations." I smirked. "He sees Kyle standing behind me and asks if that's my boyfriend." My smirk grew. "I tell Chris that he's a boy and he's my friend, so yes, he was my boyfriend but that's none of his concern; that he'd picked a bad time to find me because I was leaving the next day because I live down here now and, in as many words, tell him I know his talk about spending years trying to find me is crap and if he wanted to get in touch with me so bad he could've emailed me. He says all he wanted to do was apologize, so I tell him his apology is accepted and ask if there's anything else. He asks how I'm doing and I say I'm doing fabulous and that I have to go." I shrugged. "That was that. I think Chris made Kyle kind of jealous. Kyle was all upset and mad protective and said he just didn't want to see me get hurt again and that he was wary of Chris lying about trying to find me. Maybe it's just me, but he seemed too irritated by Chris for it to just be worry."

"Maybe he really is just concerned. When I broke up with my boyfriend of two years in August, I was absolutely devastated because he dumped me for some undergrad slut from NYU. He got sick of my work schedule making it hard to go out and do things. I was totally devastated and when Frank had his slut girlfriend stop by to pick up his stuff, she had the nerve to ask me for advice on what Frank liked in bed and if he liked oral. Oh, and she seemed to think we could compare notes on how Frank was in bed because she says Frank just won't let her sleep and was he like that with me. When I saw Kyle a few days later and told him about that, you'd think I'd said the girl asked if she and Frank could come over later to screw and would I run the video camera." Laurie rolled onto her side, propping up her head with her hand. "Kyle's just protective, Olivia. As much as I know you want to think he was green with jealousy, he was probably just being himself."

"I'd concede that it's possible you're right, except there was this little thing earlier that makes me rather sure it wasn't just wishful thinking."

Being a cruel, nasty person who enjoys leaving people hanging in suspense, I chose that moment to go use the bathroom. To really wind her up, I took my time.

Laurie gave me a dirty look when I came back into my room. I just smiled.

"If you're going to be like that, I'm not going to tell you anything," I teased. "You can wait and wonder and hear about it from someone else tomorrow."

"I will shave your head while you sleep, take pictures, and post them online." Laurie narrowed her eyes.

"You're threatening me with the Britney look? Geez, it's just a little bit of gossip, not the nation's nuclear secrets!" I sat down on my bed next to her feet. "Since I'm not entirely evil and uncaring, I'll overlook the fact you're totally overreacting and let you have the honor of being the first to know and the pleasure of spreading it around. After this, it'll cost you lots of chocolate to be in the know."

Laurie tossed Quincy, my stuffed iguana, at me.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on or not?"

"Okay, fine, if you insist." I filled her in on everything that had happened that morning. "And, before you ask, yes, he's one hell of a fabulous kisser." I grinned and Laurie laughed. "Keep that under your hat, as hard as I know it'll be. I don't want to end up in hot water with Kyle for kissing and telling. What you _can_ tell everyone is that he's a total gentleman, in that he treats me with respect and keeps his hands to himself—he hasn't tried to cop a feel or anything like that, I mean, and when we go out tonight—" a warm rush of pleasure swept through me "—he's talked about going for dinner and coffee and hanging out for a while at Earthtones. Not a word about wanting to go back to his place."

Laurie sighed sadly. "You need to loosen up more, Olivia. Dinner and coffee and discussing your innermost feelings afterwards? That's so…tame and boring."

"We will _not_ be discussing our innermost feelings," I said with a touch of scorn. "As great as he can be about actually listening when you have a problem, he's a guy, Laurie. A _straight_ guy. The only kind of innermost feelings he likes to discuss are the ones related to his passion for rock and heavy metal, and things like that." I smiled wryly. "I really dislike metal, which he exploits to get a reaction out of me. Does that qualify for your 'discussing your innermost feelings' glurge?"

"How long do you think he'll be happy keeping it G-rated? He's a guy, and even the nice ones have a sex drive."

"Some more than others," I quipped dryly. "I'd be disappointed if he didn't. Having a sex drive doesn't mean you have to act on it, though. We've chosen not to have sex until we're married, be it to each other or to other people. That's why we're going to try to spend as little time alone together as possible. Too much temptation."

"If you want to, then do it! There's nothing wrong with having sex. I didn't think you were so uptight."

I sighed. "Laurie, I never said there's anything wrong with sex. I said I want to remain a virgin until I get married. Big difference. I'm very much looking forward to an active sex life. I have my reasons, both religious and practical, and to help me stick to it I try to avoid situations where I could be tempted to get it on with a guy I'm not married to. I don't give you a hard time about your sex life, so I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't get on me about mine—or my lack of one." I smiled sardonically. "Keep that to yourself, and keep what happened in the car on the way back from the Swamp to yourself, too. If you don't and I hear about it, you'll be the one looking like Britney."

"I can't tell even one person?" she whinged.

"No, because I don't want my private life broadcast around and I know Kyle doesn't want his to be, either. I know you wouldn't go around telling everyone you see, but even if you tell just one person, if they feel it's too good not to share then details will get out. All anyone needs to know is that yes, we're going out and no, we're not having sex."

"Prude," she teased.

"Loose woman," I shot back, smiling. "I'm kicking you out. I need to shower and change before I head to dinner with Kyle."


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: No hate mail or death threats about the Legolas-bashing, por favor. Comments about how Legolas a) isn't actually blond and/or b) is not Middle Earth's Captain Obvious should be sent to Peter Jackson because I don't care what color Leggy's roots are and I'm not the one who thought Tolkien's novel was up for revision—not that I feel strongly or anything. ;)_

**Summer 2009**

"So, where are we going for dinner tonight?" I asked Kyle, looking up at him.

"You tell me. You know where all the good restaurants are."

I thought for a moment, and then grinned. "The Dinosaur BBQ. Best food in town! I'll tell everyone." I stood up and walked out from under his arm. "Sarah! Loosen your belt, girl, 'cause we're gonna eat good tonight. We're going to the Dino!" I called as I hurried across the room. "Call Jim and see if he can join us."

"Won't Kyle care?" She nodded toward him.

"Are you kidding? He'll love another guy there being there. Support in a sea of estrogen."

While Sarah was calling her hubby, I went to see if April was going to stay and do dinner or go home with Liz and Elly, who'd just finished telling April she (April) was leaving right now because they (the Patterson women) were mad at me for unfairly singling Liz out and yelling at her and they were leaving right now and going back home because they didn't want to spend another minute among us.

I could tell from April's body language she didn't appreciate being told how to think and act and likely wanted to tell Elly if she (Elly) and Liz were so upset they could leave but she (April) was going to stay. Worried she was going to cave under Elly's bulldozer tactics, I started to move to step between them so I could steer April away.

"I want to stay, Ma," April said firmly. "I'll be fine. I've traveled to Manitoba and back each summer on my own for several years and been fine, so, please, don't act like I'll be attacked and robbed—"

"Don't say that!" interjected Elly. "The thought of something happening to you terrifies me!"

"I can handle myself, Ma. I'll get home just fine."

Elly looked disgruntled. "No, April, you're coming with your sister and me. We're not welcome here and I'm more than ready to leave." She glanced at me, giving me a dirty look, and then grabbed April's wrist and started to pull her towards the door.

"Ma, STOP! You're hurting me!" April protested. When Elly let go of her wrist, April jerked her hand back and held it against her chest, gently rubbing her wrist with her other hand. "It's Liz Olivia asked to leave, not you and me. I didn't do anything and Olivia wants me to stay. It's not fair that everything should be ruined for me when it's Liz's own fault she had to leave, so I'm not going to leave and you can't force me. I'm an adult now."

I bit back a smile, April's expression reminding me of when I'd turned eighteen and started standing up to my parents (read: my dad). I'd been so incredibly nervous and uncertain of myself underneath the façade of firm resolve and confidence I'd been trying to project. Much like Elly, only less shrill and more likely to curse, when my dad told you to do something, he expected you to immediately obey. Any other response than "I'll get right to it" was met with extreme irritation and anger unless you were saying you'd have to do it later because you were hemorrhaging from a major artery and really wanted to get to the hospital before you totally bled out, or that a sudden attack of paralysis made it impossible for you to get up out of the chair you were in. If April won the battle of wills, I was taking her to the mall the next day and buying her something expensive.

"You may be an adult, young lady, but you still live under my roof and you'll live by my rules as long as you do!"

April blanched but quickly regained her colour. "It's Dad's name on the deed, not yours, so I'm not living under _your_ roof, and when I get home tomorrow you won't need to worry about bossing me around any more because I'm taking my stuff and living with Eva and Duncan until I leave for uni."

'I'm buying her a Jaguar,' I thought, extremely impressed by April's unexpected chutzpah. 'I'm buying her a Jag and making sure she has everything she needs for uni—no, forget the Jag. She needs something to shove all her worldly possessions into. I'll buy her a Prius.' Practical and, best of all, she'd save mad money at the gas pump.

Elly's neck and face turned a deep red and she glowered at April for a long moment before making an inarticulate expression of frustration and anger, turning on her heel, and stalking out of the room.

Everyone began applauding as soon as Elly was gone.

"You are awesome, girl!" Regina said, putting an arm around April's shoulders. "Good for you, standing up to her!"

"Yeah, that was seriously amazing." Sarah put an arm around Regina's shoulders. "I never could've stood up to my mom like that when I was your age. Of course, my mom is cool so I never had to, but I know I wouldn't have had the guts if she had been like your mom."

"You think she might toss all your stuff on the lawn, or gather it all up and refuse to give it to you?" I asked, concerned.

"Nope. She'll just yell and rant and stew a lot." April shrugged. "She might decide to pack my stuff up and put the boxes near the front door and have Pop give them to me when I show up, hoping that if it looks like they want me gone I'll feel sorrow and rejection and, unable to bear the idea of being estranged from my loving parents, beg forgiveness for my sins, which, of course, Ma will be only too happy to provide and she'll help move the boxes back into my cramped room in the basement, relieved I've come to my senses." April's expression told me that scenario wasn't likely. "I'd love it if she did, though. It'll spare me a lot of time and work having to do it myself, and having to hear Ma go on and on to Pop about how it just breaks her heart I'm leaving and what did she do wrong and how I've rejected the family and she'll be really loud about it so I'll hear."

"How very passive-aggressive," I said dryly. "I see where Liz got it from."

"Like mother, like daughter." April smiled bitterly. "I am _so_ glad I'm leaving for uni in less than a month. I'm going to find an apartment in town and when I do, the next time I'm on break I'll only be back home—in Millborough long enough to get whatever I couldn't take with me from Eva and Duncan's and to visit with Gramps and Iris. Ma will have a fit I wasn't a dutiful daughter and didn't visit like I'm supposed to, and I know she'll have this whole scenario in her mind where I beg forgiveness and she graciously forgives me." She rolled her eyes. "She'll probably be most upset by me robbing her of the opportunity to live out her fantasies. I love her, but she can't deal with anything that doesn't fit into her nice, neat, regimented plan and march according to her orders."

"How anal," Sarah said distainfully. "What a control freak. Type A much?"

I smirked. "Whatever gave you that idea? Oh, is Jim coming?"

Sarah nodded. "He'll meet us there. You're sure Kyle won't mind?"

"Absolutely." I shrieked when two arms suddenly grabbed me from behind and lifted me a few inches off the floor. "Ha, ha. Very funny. You can put me down now."

"What if I don't want to?" Kyle asked, clearly thrilled to have me at a disadvantage.

"How'd you like to sleep on the couch for the next four or five decades?"

"Wouldn't bother me. It's very comfortable."

By now, everyone was watching us.

"Kyle, put me down. Please." My patience and good humor with being the butt of a joke—even one as small and good-natured as this—was quickly running out.

"Don't do it!" Lisa said, her sentiments echoed a moment later by the other women.

"Carry her to the car!" April called and everyone cheered. I gave her a dirty look and, cheeky brat that she was, she grinned and gave me a double thumbs up.

Katie decided to ruin all their fun by reminding everyone a moment later, "We can't leave yet; we have to finish cleaning up." After the groans died down, she added, "Then he can carry her out to the car."

There was much rejoicing at Katie's pronouncement and everyone, save my captor and myself, set to work and much too soon for my liking, the room Aunt Harriet had reserved for the party at her church was clean and the furniture returned to its original positions.

"_Now_ we can leave," Katie said, grinning like the cat that got the canary. "Regina, make sure to get pictures."

'I'm killing them both later,' I thought sardonically as I was turned around and hoisted up over Kyle's shoulder, much to the amusement and pleasure of my traitorous relatives. All of them were going to die, too. Slowly and painfully. Death by pokey, perhaps. I smiled, remembering the joke that came from. My mom's mom had told it to me when I was about kindergarten age and I'd thought it was the most hilarious thing ever. Odd what you remembered sometimes.

My abdominal muscles were very thankful when Kyle shifted me so he had one arm under my knees and the other around my upper body.

"Unless you want to eat pavement, dear, you need to hold onto my neck."

"Gladly. Easier to throttle you that way."

"You might want to wait until I'm not carrying you. Like tonight, after dinner, when we're in our room at the Del Monte."

My eyebrows shot up. "You booked a room _there_? That place is ridiculously expensive!"

"I can always cancel it if you want and we can go to some seedy rent-by-the-hour motel if you want."

"If I didn't have to hold onto you, I'd smack you. Rent-by-the-hour motel, indeed. You want to sleep alone tonight, don't you?"

"You're forgiven." He planted a quick kiss on my forehead. "You can show me everything you got today."

I grinned. "Absolutely. I hope Aunt Harriet remembers to bring the bag of everything to the car." There were many wonderful things about already being married, and this was one of them.

Eloping to Vegas and having an Elvis impersonator marry us had been my crazy idea, more or less. That Kyle and I were keeping it under wraps and having a church wedding later for the sake of family was mine also, if you consider remembering what Mike and Dee had done as being my idea.

The excitement of announcing our engagement and hearing friends and family gush about how happy they were died down at the end of January, replaced by people asking if we'd set a date yet and how the planning was going. "No" and "We haven't started yet" brought expressions of dismay and horror stories about couples who left off planning until it was almost too late. After several weeks of that, we finally made time in mid-February to start planning.

"The legal kind," was Kyle's response when I asked him what kind of wedding he wanted.

I gave him a Look. "So you'd be fine with getting married nude in Times Square during rush hour, with a reception at the police station after they arrest us?" I asked dryly.

"As long as it was legal and binding." He laughed when I gave him another Look. "Or we could elope. We wouldn't have to worry about being arrested for public indecency if we eloped."

"Nothing like being arrested on your wedding day to make it truly memorable." I rolled my eyes. "Since you don't care, I'll talk to a friend of mine who's worked as a wedding planner and let you know when to go for a tux fitting."

"How about an olive green paisley cummerbund?"

"You want to die, don't you?" When he nodded, I sighed heavily. "You're hopeless. I don't know why I put up with you."

"Because you can't get enough of my stunning good looks and brilliant mind?"

"Keep telling yourself that." Smiling, I reached across the small table and patted his hand. "We need to set a date. Any preferences or are you apathetic about that, too?"

"Next weekend is good."

"And ABC just announced pigs have started flying. Try something more realistic, like June—oh, wait. No. That's the height of wedding season." I took off my glasses and rested my face on my hands for a long moment. "There's no way we'll find anywhere that's free in June, or May, or July, either. Maybe August. Doesn't that just suck the big one? So much for a short engagement." I sighed, frustrated. "Hell's bells on little white mice."

"We wouldn't have to wait if we eloped."

"My parents would have kittens and I know it would mean a lot to my dad to walk me down the aisle and you know rumors would start that I was pregnant and that's why we married in such a hurry and—I'd rather not. As appealing as not having to deal with planning a wedding and getting married ASAP sound, I want a church wedding. My inner child has been looking forward to one for years." I also didn't want to deal with the inevitable 'she copied Liz' mindset and smug, self-congratulating attitude the Pattersons would adopt when news of my elopement reached them. Elly had done well, indoctrinating Mike and Liz to see themselves as the focus of everything, so the fact I'd eloped with a guy I'd been good friends with for years would be seen as proof I was continuing to copy Liz (when I'd started dating Kyle, Elly had insinuated she and Liz thought I was playing 'monkey see, monkey do' in hopes of finally being married). It galled me that what the Pattersons thought played a role in my thinking, but the amount of irritation and annoyance Elly and her spawn would likely inflict upon my family and myself for years to come left me no other choice. Kyle didn't know about the Pattersons and I wasn't going to tell him unless I absolutely had to (read: preferably never).

Eloping was a family tradition with them. First Mike and Dee, and then Liz and Mr. Cardboard. Years ago, I'd hoped Liz moving to the Middle of Nowhere to teach meant she was striking out on a different path than Elly had taken and that she wouldn't end up like her mother, but it wasn't to be. Liz settled and, for a time, Elly reveled in making her dreams of a floofy white wedding become a reality. She'd been furious when Liz robbed her of a white floofy wedding and went fifty different kinds of totally postal. In an email, April told me that Dee had told her that Elly's reaction had really surprised her.

"Dee sez that even her ma wouldn't have been like that if her ma had found out Dee and Mike eloped and the church wedding wuz just to shut her up (Dee's ma, I mean)," April had confided. "Ma iz always talking trash about Dee's ma and how Dee's ma iz soooo controlling and tries to micromanage Dee and Mike and never shuts up and iz always showing up at their (Dee and Mike's) house unexpected and with lots of stuff for Robin and Merrie. Mira (Dee's mom) iz kinda overbearing and tries to tell Dee what to do, but Ma's worse. Ma iz such a total hypocrite sometimes. She just walks down to Mike's almost every day and lets herself in and she always just pushes right in to whatever Dee is doing and takes over and tells Dee what she's doing wrong and she always complains if Mira and Wulf watch Merrie and Robin instead of her. Mira and Wulf adore Merrie and Robin, just like Ma and Pop do, so what's the problem?"

"Ma gives Dee a hard time about working instead of staying home with Merrie and Robin, which pisses me off. It's not like Merrie and Robin are dumped in some day-care all week. Mike works from home and takes care of them. Ma iz saying now that Mike iz a published author and making lots of money Dee should quit her job and be a mother full-time, like women are supposed to be. I feel bad for Dee. She loves her job and being told, basically, that she's not a good mother really hurts her. She never sez anything but I can tell by her expression. Mike's a douchebag for not telling Ma to leave Dee alone. This isn't 1908, so Ma needs to wake up and get with the times. Whenever I get married and have kids, I'm going to do what I want and if Ma gets on my case I'm going to tell her to shut up and leave me alone and let me and my husband decide what iz best for us."

Elly the Hypocrite, indeed. She wouldn't have flinched at denying Mira the chance to see her daughter married in white, but she acts like Liz admitted to running a drug ring out of her parents' garage when she's denied the chance to see her daughter married in white. I felt sorry for Mike and Dee (mostly Dee) that they'd had to keep eloping a secret and go through the church wedding just to keep her mother happy.

"That's it!" I yelled suddenly and jumped to my feet, roughly shoving my chair back as I stood. "Oh, this is perfect!"

Kyle, startled, stood quickly and looked at me with a wary confusion.

"Glad to hear it," he said. "What are you talking about?"

Grinning, I laughed and clapped my hands together.

"How to have our cake and eat it, too!" In three strides I was over to him, grabbing his face and kissing him deeply, pulling back a moment later to tell him what my fabulous idea was.

"I'd love to say I thought this all up by myself but I got the idea from what some distant relatives did several years ago when they got hitched. They didn't want to wait, either, but her mom would've had a major fit if she didn't get married in white so my relatives eloped and kept it on the down low, only telling his parents, and had a church wedding several months later to keep her mom happy. We can do the same thing—only without the anal parental units. My parents won't throw a fit—much, at least to my face—if I elope but I know they'd like to see me married in a church and—"

Kyle put a finger over my lips.

"Slow down. You're not an auction caller."

"Sorry." I repeated what I'd said, making sure to speak slower. "What do you think?"

"I think it's a fabulous idea and you're a genius for coming up with it." He gave me a quick kiss.

"Just remembered some family gossip. A bunch of people on my mom's side have eloped. Must be something genetic. One of her cousins eloped in Vegas a few years ago. There was a webcam filming the whole thing so people could watch if they wanted to. Hey, why don't we do that? Go to Vegas, I mean. Elope with style—or lack thereof." I grinned. "Elvis could marry us. Can't pass that up _that_ opportunity." I doubted he would. Kyle was the biggest Elvis fan I'd ever met, which was why I'd brought it up. Tacky, cheesy, over-the-top—and absolutely perfect.

If things worked out the way we wanted and news of our eloping didn't leak out, there was no worry about Elly saying I was copying her daughter and I'd be having the church wedding Liz had cheated Elly out of. There'd be sour grapes over that, but it wouldn't be the first time Elly had pouted and stamped her feet, as it were, because she was jealous, envious, and covetous. I hoped the next time Elly got on her holier-than-thou pedestal and tried to pass herself off as some kind of saint whose shit didn't stink, I'd remember enough of her transgressions to pop holes in her ego and bring it down to size. She would, of course, accuse me of being the pot that called the kettle black. That's what a lot of people did when you called them on their crap, especially the self-righteous ones, and they sometimes quoted Bible verses like 'judge not lest ye be judged' and 'don't tell your neighbor he has a speck in his eye when you have a plank in yours'. Dealing with holier-than-thou blowhards was easy enough. Unlike them, I didn't try to pass myself off as a paragon of sinless virtue and I didn't act like I'd somehow earned my way to a higher level of holiness and righteousness and that God liked me better than other people because of what I gave to charity or how many orphans I was kind to.

Sometimes, pulling the rug out from under someone was enough to shut them up but Elly's opinion of herself was high enough that she'd still have enough of the steam of righteous indignation left in her to huff and puff excuses and justifications for being the way she was. Why people like that didn't just shut up right way, I had no idea. It wasn't like they were going to convert anyone to their way of thinking with bursts of hot air. I figured it was a self-defense thing and the huffing and puffing was to convince themselves again of their superiority and destroy any shreds of reality and the truth that might've penetrated.

Since what happens in Vegas is supposed to stay in Vegas (at least until the cops arrest you and it makes the evening news), the only ones we were going let in on our plans were Jill and her hubby, Mark, Bri, and Felicity. We wanted to keep things as quiet as possible because my cousin, Maria, was in _42__nd__ Street_ and we didn't want anyone back home (i.e., Rochester) to find out. Jill and Bri were, we hoped, going to be our witnesses and not inviting Felicity and Mark struck me as rude.

"We have to ask Mark and Felicity to come, too," I told Kyle later when we were down at South Side Pier. "Bri and Jill won't have anywhere near as much fun without their better halves. Besides, Mark and Jill deserve some kind of 'thank you' for all they've done for you, especially Mark. He's made sure there's nothing fishy in a contract before you sign it for almost twenty years. No clauses saying you'll be paid peanuts—literally."

"What's Jill done that's so important?" he teased, moving behind me and putting his arms around me.

I pulled my arms free and put my hands over his.

"Jill deserves a purple heart because she's put up with you all these years and for keeping your website up and running."

"What about Felicity? Why should she come? What's she done that deserves rewarding?" He rested his chin on the top of my head.

"She puts up with Bri." I gave a short laugh. "Seriously, I don't want to start our marriage by alienating two good friends because Felicity had to stay here while Bri takes off for a weekend of fun in Vegas. Come to think of it, I don't think it would go over well with Mark and Jill, either. Yeah, definitely do _not_ want to start married life by alienating four friends. So when do you want to tell them?" I glanced at my watch. "It's only about seven, so why not tonight? We can go shock Bri and Felicity and after we've made them an offer they can't refuse and secured their agreement by threatening to have second grade school pictures printed in _Playbill_, we can swing by Mark and Jill's. The munchkins should be in bed by then, and if they're not we can earn brownie points by helping to tie them down for the night." I tipped my head back so I was looking up at him. "Sound like a plan?"

"I want to get my brass knuckles and baseball bat from my apartment first. In case extra persuasion is needed."

I laughed. "I doubt that'll be necessary. I'm sure they'll be overjoyed we're not waiting, and that we might actually have children before we're both old and grey."

I hadn't been entirely joking about how thrilled our friends would be. Last August, Jill had confided to me during lunch at her apartment that she hoped Kyle would marry and have kids in the near future.

"It's getting harder for Mark and I to keep up with our three and our bodies aren't as forgiving anymore about all the bending and stretching and lifting and carrying," she'd told me. "I know Kyle's in better shape than either of us are and Mark's older than he is, but he'll start having to slow down at some point."

I'd nodded, understanding her concern. "You're preaching to the choir. I'd love to know why he hasn't been dating anyone. It's not like there's any shortage of women—more than a few of them married—who'd go out with him in a heartbeat. Women at church have tried to exploit my friendship with Kyle to get a date. The last one who tried that, I told her I wasn't his pimp, so unless it was me she wanted a date with me she was kissing up to the wrong person. For some reason, she didn't like that. I wonder why." I grinned.

"Eliminating the competition?" she teased.

"I'd have told her the same thing even if I was entirely happy being just friends with Kyle. I'm not a politician. My allegiance isn't for sale to the highest bidder, so I tell all of them the same thing I told that one chick, only I'm usually more polite about it."

"And he never went out with any of them," Jill remarked sardonically. "I'd wonder if he was gay if I didn't already know better."

"Join the club." I sighed and shrugged, turning to look out the window next to the table. "I don't know what his issue is, but I hope he snaps out of it soon. With me, preferably." I smiled smugly and Jill laughed.

I was suspected Bri and Felicity had had the same kind of discussion about me at some point. I'd have been surprised if they hadn't. Bri, as much as I loved him, seriously irritated me with his opinion that biology was destiny and it was important to make marriage a priority once you were out of college. I'd bought into that when I was younger, but with age and the continued paucity of decent guys who weren't taken and/or gay brought insight and wisdom and I saw Bri's views for the antiquated tripe they were. He didn't give me a hard time about the fact I was single (usually) and he was as uptight about men being single as women, and as long as things stayed that way I didn't see any reason to inflict grievous bodily harm upon him and end the friendship. I was pretty sure Felicity, who had a very different view of things than her husband, was the reason Bri kept his mouth shut.

You can tell how excited Jill is by how many glasses shatter and how many dogs start howling when she starts shrieking with joy. How long it takes your ear to stop ringing after she shrieks right next to it is another way. When Kyle told her we wanted her and Mark to be there when we eloped, it took about five minutes.

I hadn't been expecting her to suddenly lunge forward from the loveseat toward where I was sitting on the sofa, which was set at ninety degrees to the loveseat, and grab me in a tight hug, so by the time I realized what was going on, it was already too late.

"That is a fabulous idea!" she exclaimed. "Of course we'll come! Kyle, this had to have been your idea. How did you manage to convince Olivia to go along with it?"

Thankfully, she deafened me in my right ear and not my left, which I hear better with, so I was able to understand what people were saying.

"I didn't have to. Olivia's the one who thought of it." He put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer. "My attempts to convert her are working, I can tell."

I met Jill's eyes and smirked. "He's overly optimistic. The Elvis impersonator is for Mr. Number One Fan here, not that it won't be a complete hoot to tell people about later, and if we're going to elope, why not go the whole nine yards and do it with style—or, in this case, a total lack thereof." All four of us laughed.

"You're lucky," Mark said, sounding a bit wistful. "When I suggested something simple to Jill and our moms when we were planning the wedding, I thought they were going to all attack me at once."

"His idea of 'something simple' was to stay at church after the morning service and quickly exchange our vows with our parents as witnesses and then go to Red Lobster for a late lunch." Jill rolled her eyes.

"You foolish, foolish man," I chided Mark. "That would be a clear case of justifiable homicide and any jury would see that."

"Kyle, support me on this," Mark said. "Not wanting to spend months pricing flowers and caterers and DJs and reception halls does not mean I'm unromantic. Flowers die, a CD player's fine, and what's wrong with Red Lobster? They serve good seafood. It's not like I said I wanted to go to my favourite diner near the Battery."

"That definitely would've gotten you attacked, not that I don't agree with you. Friends have been telling me women start planning their wedding not long after they get out of diapers and the best way to avoid bloodshed is to leave the planning in her hands and just nod and say, 'I like it, too' whenever she asks what you think."

"That's what I ended up doing. Hey!" He looked at Jill, who'd just hit him over the head with a couch pillow, askance. "If I'd really had a problem with something, I'd have said so. I didn't like your idea to use a million of those really expensive purple lily-things and I said something, remember?"

"They were irises, dear." They'd obviously had this conversation more than once before.

"Whatever. I don't do fluffy, pretty stuff, so as long as you were happy and it wasn't going to drive us into bankruptcy, it was fine with me."

"You only had to deal with one wedding, Mark. Olivia wants to have a church wedding, too, so her family and friends can see all the fluffy, pretty stuff."

"You poor man." The sympathy in Mark's voice was genuine. "Two weddings, and you can't even go home to get away from the crazy women and their planning. Any time you need to escape, let me know and we'll go get a beer or something."

"Thanks. I'll be taking you up on that."

"Keep it up and you won't need to get away from it because you'll be living somewhere else," I threatened dryly, "like your dressing room. Jill, tell Mark to stop scaring Kyle with his outrageous stories. Beat him with that pillow." I turned slightly and looked up at Kyle. "I do not want a church wedding so everyone can see 'fluffy, pretty stuff'. I don't _do_ fluffy and pretty—I abhor fluffy and pretty—and if you haven't figured that out yet, you haven't been paying attention. Huge, ornate, and ridiculously expensive weddings are an anathema to me, but I'm more than happy to become a Bridezilla and start planning one if you'd like."

"I don't know what a Bridezilla is but it doesn't sound good." Kyle looked rather uneasy and more than a bit wary.

I laughed and shook my head. "No, a Bridezilla is definitely not a good thing. Remember what I told you about Elisa's wedding? She was a total Bridezilla. She was nothing compared to some Bridezillas, though. I run a Livejournal community for people who've had the misfortune of dealing with one—a sort of support group—and some of the 'Zillas make Elisa look mellow and undemanding."

Kyle was silent for a moment. "I'll divorce you if you turn into a Bridezilla."

"Fear not, my love. I have too many friends with zero tolerance for that kind of thing and they'll beat me down—for my own good, of course—if I start to show any signs of becoming one. Jill will probably beat the rest of them to it, though."

"They'll have their chance to smack you around. It would be rude to keep the fun all to myself."

"You're too kind," I said dryly. "I'm sure Miss Manners would approve."

Later, when we went to tell Felicity and Bri, Felicity surprised us with, "The rabbit died" when she opened the apartment door and saw it was Kyle and me.

"What rabbit?" I asked as I handed her my coat to hang up. "I didn't know you had a rabbit. When did that happen?"

"Yes, when did we get a rabbit, honey?" Bri called from their bedroom. "And why didn't I know?"

"No, we don't have a rabbit." Felicity sighed and rolled her eyes slightly. "It's something Mamá and her friends said whenever someone was pregnant, that the rabbit had died. It had something to do with how they used to find out if a woman was pregnant. If she was, people would say that the rabbit had died."

"Congratulations! This is fabulous!" I exclaimed, grabbing Felicity in a tight hug. "When did you find out? How far along are you? Who else knows?" I dropped my arms and moved a few steps away before yelling, "Excited about being a dad, Bri? Ready to change diapers and have all your shirts smelling like baby barf? What?" I turned when I felt Felicity touch my shoulder.

"I'm not pregnant. That's not…" She looked a bit embarrassed.

"Oh. My bad. What, then?" Well, wasn't this awkward and confusing? I had a feeling the news Kyle and I were eloping would be anticlimactic in comparison to whatever was going on. Hopefully, the rabbits dying weren't literal ones. Pregnancy testing was way beyond the need for animal cruelty.

"I thought—isn't that—oh, I am _so_ sorry." Felicity face was now visibly red underneath her milk chocolate coloring. "I thought that's what you came to tell us; that you're pregnant. The way you were standing; leaning against him—" her eyes flicked to Kyle "—and the way he had an arm around you—the look on your face—it was like the one my sister, Maritza, had when she told the family she was pregnant the first time." She buried her face in her hands. "I am _so_ sorry. This is so embarrassing." She lowered her hands a moment later. "_Is_ that why you're here?" she asked hopefully.

I shook my head gently, trying not to laugh.

"Nope, sorry. Can't help you get that foot out of your mouth. If it makes you feel any better, I'm in a good mood tonight so I'm not inclined to flog you with wet noodles. Can't speak for Kyle, though" I looked up at him. "What do you think? Shall we be lenient, or should I start preparing noodles for a public flogging?"

"Enough!" Bri declared as he came into the living area from the bedroom. "This is a flogging-free zone."

"She implied we've been living in sin, Brian," Kyle protested with mock indigence. "We've been insulted and I will not stand for it!"

"So go sit down." Bri idly waived in the direction of the futon as he walked over to the fridge and took out a jug. "Anyone want some cider while I have it out?"

"Count me in," I said. "I'll do what I can to try and talk Kyle out of seeking retribution."

"Don't kid yourself; it'll take more than talking," Bri quipped. "At least, it will if he's smart about it." He laughed when Felicity lightly smacked his arm.

"I hope so. I've always loved a challenge."

"You'll love being married, then," Felicity said with a touch a sarcasm. "Let's sit. The embarrassment won't be complete until you tell us why you're actually here."

"Hurry it up, Bri," I said as I plopped down on the futon next to Kyle. "Get over here with the cider so your lovely wife can learn what makes women smile other than being pregnant."

"So start talking. I'll be over in a sec."

"I want to wait until you're not holding the cups anymore and I don't want to wait any longer."

"Just for that, I'm going to take my time." He grinned when Kyle and Felicity laughed.

"And I'm not going to tell you. I'll just tell Felicity and swear her to secrecy." I stuck out my tongue at him. "So there!"

Bri shook his head sadly as he put the jug back in the fridge and picked up the two cups of cider.

"You're more impatient and demanding than usual," Bri teased when he handed me one of the cups. "Must be really big news."

"Your grasp of the obvious is mindstaggering," I said dryly, smirking slightly. "Moreso even than Legolas."

"It's a _Lord of the Rings_ joke," Bri explained in response to the blank looks on Kyle and Felicity's faces. "From the movies. The character was a total Captain Obvious."

"He was blond, so are you really surprised?" I shrugged. "Of course, so are you. Not as blond as Legolas, but that's just details. If you want, I can use smaller words and speak slower."

"I'll be fine, but thanks for caring," Bri said sarcastically. "So what's the big news?"

"How'd you like a weekend in Vegas?"

"Your big news is you're going to Vegas and you want us to come?" Felicity looked incredibly non-plussed. "Thanks for the offer but we can't afford it."

"I was actually talking to Bri," I said, "but if you wanted to come, that wouldn't be a problem." I bit down on my tongue firmly to keep from laughing when annoyance and irritation quickly floated across her face. "We really only need him. No offense."

"You couldn't have called to ask and left Felicity out of it?" Bri was Upset, which was exactly what I'd wanted. As insensitive and clueless as he could be at times, he truly did care and was incredibly loyal to and protective of the people he loved, especially Felicity.

"Maybe we could've, but it just wouldn't be the same. I mean, if it was only going to Vegas for fun and kicks and giggles, yeah, you could do that over the phone, but…well, when you're going to Vegas to elope and you want to ask a friend to go with you to be a witness, you really want to do that face-to-face, know what I mean?" I relaxed against Kyle's side and took his hand, pulling his arm around me, waiting for the reaction. "Of course, I was totally not serious about leaving Felicity out and don't worry about the cost; all you'd have to pay for is some meals. We asked Jill and Mark and they're coming."

"Eloping?" Bri asked, sounding unsure he'd heard me right.

I nodded. "Yeah. I don't want to wait so I smacked Kyle around until he agreed to do what I wanted. Unless you agree to come with us I'll have to smack you around, too."

"Eloping."

"To Vegas. Yes." 'Maybe smaller words are a good idea,' I thought sardonically. Legolas, at least, understood you the first time.

"I knew that was it!" Felicity exclaimed. "The minute you mentioned Vegas, I _knew_ it was because you were eloping! You weren't serious about only asking Brian, were you?"

"Of course not, girl! I was just messing with you. I'd never seriously do anything like that. I like being alive too much."

"You'd think I'd have learned by now." She gave me a look of slight disapproval, and then grinned as she stood and came over to the futon. "Congratulations! I'm happy for you both," she said, hugging me enthusiastically.

"It's about time," was Bri's comment. "I thought you'd go to a local JP and get hitched a week or two after you announced you were engaged. What took so long?"

"And I'm the one who rushes?" I asked archly when he gave me a hug. "So are you coming willingly or will we have to drug you two and drag your bodies onto the plane?"

"You said airfare and the hotel are covered, right?"

"More or less," Kyle said. "To save money, we're hiring a flock of geese and tying ourselves to them and you guys will be sleeping in a cardboard box by the dumpster. I'm told it stays warm there at night, the rats usually leave you alone, and you can find lots of good stuff in the dumpster for breakfast. Hope you don't mind."

"Oh boy, I love roughing it!" Bri declared brightly, clapping his hands together. "This will be fun!"

"You go and have your fun, then," Felicity said wryly "Call me a snob, but I have a thing about sleeping in a bed and not fighting vermin before my morning coffee."

"Snob." I smiled sanguinely. "You can sleep on the bathroom floor, then, if you're going to be so picky."

"You're too kind—and completely full of it, so what are you I_actually/I_ planning?"

"Don't know yet," Kyle said. "The soonest any of us—except Mark, who's not union—can get off is in a month, so we're aiming for that, but we'll let you know for sure once we decide on a hotel and find out how booked they are."

Fabulously exciting and wonderful news deserving a celebration, Felicity pulled out the margarita supplies and the margarita recipe her mamá had given her that had been in her family for years and made the best margaritas ever, bar none. Felicity's mamá was Dominican, so I wasn't sure how long the recipe had been in the family but however contrived that was, the margaritas were totally fabulous and stopping while you could still walk straight was incredibly difficult.

"Too many of these and maybe the rabbit will end up dying," I said after my second margarita. "Come clean, Felicity. That's why you made these, to loosen me and Kyle up and muddle our brains in hopes of redeeming yourself and being right sooner rather than later." I laughed and set my glass down on the coffee table. "It's not going to happen, woman. I'm on to you!"

"You're a lightweight," Kyle chided, pulling me back against him and kissing me. "It'll take more than—how many have you had, two?" I nodded. "Two margaritas to 'loosen me' up enough to put Felicity's rabbit at risk. You've lost your edge since Toronto. How many Mudslides did you have that night, and you were still pretty steady walking out of the club."

"Too many, but there's more booze in one of these than a Mudslide so it doesn't take as many of these. I swore I would _never _get that drunk again and I never have. One vicious hangover was enough, thank you VERY much. Learning took place. Never. Again." I winced at the memory of Anna's kitten thundering across the living area rug the morning after. I'd never understood why people would think suffering like that was an experience worth repeating on a regular basis. More proof the human race was inherently whacked.

I'm not sure which was harder: keeping mum about our plans or not going nuts having to wait to put our plans into motion. Kyle and I had debated giving Bri and Jill two days notice and calling in sick from the airport before our flight left, but quickly decided against it for reasons of job security. That meant staying on the good side of Equity and IATSE and putting in for time off a month in advance, so the end of March was the earliest we could elope. Unfortunately, when we started looking into hotels from Laurie's and my place a few days later, we discovered that was at the beginning of Spring Break season and thousands of college kids with a dearth of good sense, Mommy and Daddy's credit cards, and delusions of beating the odds were booking rooms for a mass invasion of Vegas.

"Another excellent reason not to leave our room all weekend," I said dryly, leaning on the kitchenette's small counter when Kyle, after talking to someone in Vegas, told me college kids had the Mirage's suites booked up through the end of April. "Hordes of co-eds—_drunken_ co-eds—everywhere, along with all the other nutters swarming around Vegas. Like Michigan State after a home football game, only a thousand times worse."

"You've overreacting, dear. Unlike Michigan State, the businesses in Vegas aren't going to put up with obnoxious teens and more than they tolerate obnoxious adults. If, for some reason, we do actually have to go outside and some drunks are being a pain, all we'll need to do is make sure shoving them into oncoming traffic looks like an accident."

"Brilliant!" Laughing, I went into the living area and flopped back onto the sofa. I loved the feel of the blue velour cover Laurie had found to hide the retina-scarring baby puke yellow upholstery. "I knew there was a reason I loved you. You're sick and twisted."

"There's only one? I'm insulted." He regarded me sadly from the recliner near the stereo.

"Of course not." I paused, then said, "At least, I don't think there's only one reason." Pause. "Let me think about it and I'll get back to you." I put my hands behind my head so it was easier to look at him.

"Don't worry. After that weekend in Vegas, you'll be able to think of plenty."

"You are so full of yourself, you know that?" I rolled my eyes and shook my head sadly as he laughed. "You're not exactly the young, handsome stud you used to be."

"Like wine and cheese, I improve with age."

"Cheese gets moldier with age and wine bottles collect dust. Don't know about you, but moldier and dustier isn't my idea of improving with age."

He stood and walked over to the sofa. Suddenly nervous, I sat up and scooched down to the end farthest from him.

"Don't take it out on me if you don't like the truth. What are you doing?" I eyed him warily as he sat down a foot or so away, a familiar look in his eye. The last time he'd looked at me that way, I'd had to wash Jell-O out of my hair. "Kyle, get away from me and tell me what heinousness you're planning to unleash upon me. Will I end up covered in food again. Why are you taking my glasses? Trying to make sure I can't see what you're about to do?"

He laughed softly and set my glasses down somewhere in the shiny brown blur that was the top of the coffee table. "I am not moldy or dusty and you Iwill/I regret saying that."

"I never said you were, only that I don't think those things are part of getting better with age. Kyle, stop!" I gave a short shriek when he suddenly moved right next to me and moved up onto the sofa arm to get away but he pulled me back down next to him.

Laurie gave a shout of surprise when, on her way to the kitchenette, she saw what Kyle was doing to—or, more accurately, with—me.

"You couldn't do that in your room?" she griped as she measured coffee into a filter. "If my phone were closer, I'd take a picture to show everyone who thinks you two are prudes."

"He started it," I protested lamely, face flaming. "He thought I was saying he was old and dusty and felt the need to prove he wasn't, so yell at him. Besides, it's not like any clothes came off or anything. I've found clothing trails to your room the morning after you've come in with a guy, so you're not one to talk." He was so going to suffer for this later.

"Shirts and my bra are not the same as softcore on the sofa, Olivia. I don't try to eat a guy's face off until Iafter/I we're in my room and the door's shut."

"A little volume control would be nice," I shot back. "I should make you pay me back for the earplugs I've had to buy. Like I said, you're not one to talk and—" my face grew hotter "—I was not trying to eat his face off. Snogging isn't softcore, either."

Laurie turned slightly at the waist, a huge smirk on her face.

"This was. Not that I think it's a bad thing. From the way you talk, sometimes it seems like you wear a chastity belt and I was afraid I'd have to tie you to the sofa and make you watch a porno so you'd at least know the basics before you got married, especially considering…" She nodded toward Kyle.

"Girl, if I was that frigid and uptight, do you really think I wouldn't have thrown a fit by now about your boyfriends being here Saturday and Sunday mornings? The only time I've banged on your door and woken you up was when that Hispanic guy with the big tat on his butt was walking around nude gave me a full frontal and said, 'What, you don't like what you see?' when I asked him to go put something on."

"What did you say?" Laurie asked, laughter in her voice. "When got up to talk to him, he was really mad, ranting in Spanish, calling you a bitch and a whore and saying you'd called his dick tiny and you'd said you'd cut it off if he didn't get dressed and that he'd never come here again as long as you were here."

"So I'm not the only man you've threatened," Kyle said, chin resting on top of my head. "I feel better now."

"You weren't the first man I 'threatened'—" I made quote marks in the air with my fingers "—if you consider mentioning when I castrated a piglet in school I thought it was easy to be a threat—and you definitely weren't the last, but Laurie's guy wasn't one of them. I'd just gotten up, so I was still sleepy, and seeing him starkers threw me for a loop, so when he asked me if I liked what I saw, I studied his package for a moment, shrugged, said something like, 'Takes more than that to impress me', and turned and headed towards your room to tell you to come and make your boyfriend get dressed. By the time I was awake enough to realize he didn't know my background, he was gone, so I couldn't explain I'd worked with animals for years and not to take it personally. As humans go, he was well-hung enough, I suppose, but…well, after you've been around elephants and learned about whales, human men aren't exactly anything special."

It took Laurie a minute or two to stop laughing enough to speak. Behind me, Kyle had leaned back against the sofa and was laughing so hard he'd had to cough a few times.

"Oh. My. God. That is one of the funniest things I've heard in a long time. No wonder he was livid." She wiped a few tears away from her eyes. "That's fabulous. Takes more than that to impress you. Sounds like you have your work cut out for you, Kyle. Good luck. Remember, it's not the size of the boat; it's the motion in the ocean."

I felt my face flame red again and Kyle chuckled as pulled me back against him.

"I'm not worried. I have more than a few advantages over elephants and whales."

"As if being the same species isn't enough?" I said dryly. "God told us not to bugger other creatures and there is plenty good reason for that. Other guys, though…" I let the thought trail off. "It's Dan and Steve, not Dumbo and Shamu, you should worry about."

"I'll break a sweat the day I hear you're planning to marry one of them and haven't told me yet."

The next night, I'd hardly finished saying, "What's up?" to Dar when we met up for a post-performance coffee before she said, "You're hiding something."

"What makes you think that?" I took a drink from my mug, hoping I didn't look as nervous as I felt.

"You were smiling like you'd just won the lottery when you came in, and the only other times you've been like that is when you two started going out and when Kyle finally got his head out of his ass and proposed. So, what's going on? Let me see your left hand. Damn. I was hoping the smile meant you two got hitched. Have you two finally set a date?"

'Praise the Lord and pass the peanuts,' I thought, 'something that won't involve evasion and creative honesty.' Out loud, I said, "Hell has, indeed, frozen over. Hopefully, it'll be in September. We don't want to wait that long but with summer being wedding season there's no way we'd be able to get a church and a reception site before then and even if we could, it'll be cheaper in the fall." I shrugged. "C'est la vie. I'm calling my church back home tomorrow to see what weekends they have open and once I find out we'll set a specific date then."

"Six months. So much for a short engagement."

"My thoughts exactly," I said ruefully. "We don't want anything big or fancy, so we should have enough time to plan."

"Do you know who you want as your bridesmaids?" I knew she was hoping I'd ask her.

"Not quite yet. I'm still deciding. All I know is that Bri's going to be…whatever you call a male Maid of Honor."

"One lucky man." Dar smirked. "One man, all those women…it's a guy's dream come true."

"You're assuming I'm going to have lots of bridesmaids. I told you, I don't want anything big. I may only have Bri and one or two bridesmaids." I shrugged and took another drink from my mug.

"What's Kyle think?"

"We haven't talked about that yet, but I don't think he'll be surprised or really even care. I've never made any secret of the fact I want Bri as my Maid of Honor when I got married. I might suggest he ask his friend, Jill, to be Best Man—or Best Woman, in her case."

"Traditionalists will have a heart attack, and isn't there something in the Bible about how you'll burn in hell if there are male bridesmaids?"

I resisted the urge to laugh. "Not unless I missed the memo about Miss Manners as God's mouthpiece." I shrugged. "God does have something to say about male bridesmaids who look forward to wearing a fancy gown with matching pumps, though. Modeling yourself after Eddie Izzard is rather frowned upon."

Dar nodded. "Understandable. Eddie is too much of a chav. Imagine what letting someone like him into Heaven would do to the property values. I can almost hear the yuppie angels muttering, 'There goes the neighborhood' while they sip martinis at Heaven's country club and make plans to protest the gay bar opening just down the street."

I wadded up my napkin and threw it at her, hitting her in the forehead.

"Keep it up and I'll ban you from the wedding," I said darkly.

Dar laughed and threw the wadded-up napkin back at me. I stuck my tongue out at her as I caught it and dropped it into my empty mug.

Summer 2009

Aunt Harriet was waiting by my mom's car, which I was using while I was in town, bag in hand.

"You really don't have to take us all to dinner, Kyle," Aunt Harriet said.

"I insist. I'll be very insulted and hurt if you don't let me." He set me down on my feet and put an arm around me. "I want to get to know everyone better and what better way than lots of good food?"

"You're not Italian by chance, are you?" Aunt Harriet laughed when Kyle said he wasn't. "My husband will love you. He's Italian, so…"

"He can come, too, if you want to call him."

"Thank you, but he and the men we left home went off on a men's weekend. I don't know what they have planned and I don't think I want to."

"Jim's coming," I offered. "Sarah called him and he's meeting us there."

"You two will like each other." Aunt Harriet gave us a warm smile and handed me the large red gift bag full of my things. "Enough talk. Let's go eat!"

In the car, Kyle began going through the bag as soon as he sat down in the passenger seat.

"Please tell me this was a joke." When I glanced over, I saw him holding the granny gown.

"I'd love to, but I'd be lying. That is Elly Patterson's idea of what you bring to a shower where the guests were asked to bring things to help us with starting a family, the more fun, the better."

"She's Avril's mom?"

"It's April, and yes. Also Liz, the one who was sobbing in the hall about how I insulted her husband and then decided to oogle mine." I smiled stiffly and threw the left turn signal as we pulled up to an intersection. "In case you hadn't already figured it out, April is the only one we can stand. The other two get invites because it's easier than dealing with Elly if they're left out."

"So they'll be at the wedding in September?"

I grimaced. "Unfortunately. I'd be surprised if they didn't come, but it's only for the service and we'll only have to deal with them in the receiving line. They didn't get any information or RSVP card for the reception dinner. Elly hasn't howled in protest yet, but there are still two months. Chances are she took for granted being invited to the reception and the howling will start after she calls Mom to find out why we aren't having a reception. When my mom tells her that information was sent only to those who were invited, Elly will be so completely gobsmacked all she'll be able to do is sputter a few words before making her excuses and getting off the phone. She'll carry on for a while to whoever will listen—which, to her, is everyone and she'll follow you if you try to get away—and when she talks to Liz and Dee, Elly's daughter-in-law, and finds out they didn't get reception invites, either, she'll start fuming, furious we've dared to not invite the Pattersons to our reception. She's…Elly's an Entitlement Boob, to be polite. She and her clan insist on showing up each July for some kind of family reunion, whether we want them to or not, and act like it's a huge deal they came—they act like martyrs, basically, and Elly and her spawn think the yearly visit entitle them to wedding receptions and every family event where food is served. Each time they come, it's another huge sacrifice because what are they supposed to do, not come when we clearly want them to? Nevah!" When the light turned green, I accelerated into the turn a little too fast and had to do some quick maneuvering to keep from scraping the curb with my hubcaps.

"Sorry," I said sheepishly. "My parents' house is always the invasion site of choice so…yeah. Anyway, she feels entitled to invites and if she doesn't get one she'll go off like someone said her parents are white trash and she's the town's biggest whore. Make sure to remind me to warn Laurie about Elly. I know she'll try to get my number, and I wouldn't put it past her to dig for ours—well, yours, technically—too."

"I'll trade phones with Marge or Devin until after the wedding and tell them to have fun with any Canadian lady who calls. She'll have a time of it, though, since it's not listed."

"Their idea of 'fun' almost makes me feel bad for Elly. Almost, but not quite. If you have a guard dog and someone breaks into your house, it's their fault if the dog gnaws their leg off." I smirked. "On second though, I sincerely hope Elly finds the number and gets worked over. But enough about that. The nightgown was Elly's idea of an appropriate gift, sadly enough."

"She _does_ know how babies are made, right?" Kyle was clearly skeptical.

"She has three kids, so I'd assume so."

"And she got pregnant the old fashioned way."

"As far as I know." I bit my lip to keep from laughing at his growing disbelief and revulsion.

"Is her husband an alcoholic? No disrespect to him, but he must've had to get really loaded to have sex with a woman wearing something like this."

"Or maybe—no, not going to go there. What they do is their business. All I know is they have three kids and other than the high frump value of the nightgown, I like it. The fabric's soft and the pattern is actually nice."

There was a long moment of silence, then, "Olivia, I love you very much, but if you wear this to bed, it better be cold enough to make a snowman complain because I am _not_ going to sleep in the same bed as a woman dressed like my grandmother unless there is a very good reason."

I burst out laughing. It was just a nightgown. Granted, it had all the sex appeal of a shopping bag but the way he sounded, you'd think it was made of poison ivy and came with a matching chastity belt.

"Relax, dear. I'm going to alter it. No need to worry about sleeping in the same bed with a woman dressed like your grandmother."

"Did you get anything else like this?"

I reached over and patted his arm without taking my eyes from the road.

"No, thank God."

"Good." He sounded as if I'd just told him the world wasn't about to run out of oxygen after all, tossing the nightgown onto the back seat and eagerly reached back into the bag, pulling open the thin garment box he'd grabbed like a little boy opening gifts on Christmas. "This is more like it!" He held up a pair of crotchless panties, clearly delighted.

"Could you not hold those up where anyone who looks over can see? Thanks. Don't want the other drivers who might look over to think something interesting and better pursued when the car is parked is going on."

"If they're jealous, that's their problem," Kyle said sardonically but dropped the panties back into the box and took out a sheer chocolate brown camisole. "Very nice."

"There's more where that came from. I'm sure everyone would get a kick out of hearing how much you like everything and can't wait to put it to good use."

"I'll do that."

By the time we'd reached the Dino and parked the car, Kyle was making comments about going to a McDonald's drive-thru instead.

"I'm sure they'd understand," he reasoned while we waited for a lull in traffic to cross St. Paul Blvd.

"They don't know we're already married, love, so they'd think we were getting an early start on things and I don't want them getting the wrong idea. Not that I don't like the idea of drive-thru. Quite the opposite. Look at it this way: the longer you wait, the better it'll be when you finally get it." I stretched up and kissed him. "You're going—"

"Olivia!" The shrill nasal voice assaulted my ears, making me groan as I buried my face in Kyle's shirt. "Olivia, wait a moment!"

"I thought she was going home," Kyle said in a low voice.

"So did I," I said, resigned to the fact a fun night was ruined before it even began. "I should've known that was too good to be true." Leaning sideways a bit, I looked to see how close Elly was, grabbing Kyle's shirt and gripping it tightly when I saw Liz was with her. "Everyone but April is banned from the wedding and if they show up I'll take great pleasure in personally dragging each and everyone of the Pattersons out of the church by their hair. What part of 'Liz is not invited' did she not understand? This is ridiculous. If she thinks—and here they are. Smile and make sure I don't kill anyone."


End file.
